Red Window
by ShiningMoon
Summary: COMPLETE. When a woman who looks just like Vegeta shows up, bent on killing the prince but too physically weak to do so, she must reveal more about her intent than she had ever wished to.
1. 01

_BAM._

Mid-kick, Vegeta was sent flying against the wall of the gravity room. He shouldn't have been affected by such an insubstantial strike, but he'd had no reason to expect it, either. Recovering and wiping a small bead of blood from his lip, the Saiyajin turned to face the culprit. He nearly jumped as they locked eyes; for a moment, he thought he had met a ghost of himself.

"Vegeta." The word was no more than hissed, no less than spat. Muscles tensed, the offender prepared to strike again.

"What do you want of me?" the prince demanded. He measured his opponent carefully. Vegeta's keen nose identified the figure as female, a realization which may have taken a moment longer by mere visual inspection. Her tufts and spikes of hair were unruly; her eyes shone wild as she took her time observing him as well. Once again, the Saiyajin felt he was standing before a mirror—perhaps a mirror to the past. Her crazed expression induced nostalgia, nothing more; he had known these feelings, whatever they were, once, too. But peace had settled into his heart since Buu's defeat, and he'd been surprised to welcome it so readily.

Not-quite-sparks danced around the woman, and her hair stood on end in elevated rage as she noticed that the prince seemed too busy with introspection to notice her presence. The hairs stood taller yet as their eyes met again; he was much more real than she'd imagined. She suddenly understood the words of her father—no, not her father, never her father. The prince stood as a lion before her. Why was he here—this quaint little world—fixed so apparently permanently, peacefully? The calm behind his gaze infuriated her.

The prince crossed his arms, and his fingers rapped impatiently against his bicep. "Well?"

"I'll have none of this," she muttered, the words perhaps meant to remain inside her mouth.

"Won't you," Vegeta responded dryly, scoffing. _What arrogance. _

A quiet set in, and she almost turned to leave at his foreboding presence. But as he looked down his nose at her—not so difficult, for she was no taller than the man—her resolve was steeled. "You die today."

Vegeta laughed as she charged. He blocked her strikes with little effort, but as she relentlessly attempted to strike him, Vegeta realized that the gravity was still turned up to a hundred times the Earth's—his cool-down. She was no challenge for him, but the degree to which she was not fazed by the extra gravity intrigued him. Smirking, Vegeta blocked two more of her attacks and dashed through the open space to his left to reach the controls. He paused, conflicted, and was soon distracted diverting the woman's ki blasts from the panel, deflecting them back to strike her as she struggled to dodge.

"What's the problem?" Vegeta taunted. "I thought you said I'd die today." He was reminded of his son's infamous heckling and added, almost playfully, "Maybe you meant I'd die of boredom."

She stopped in her tracks, and the blood pumping through her eyes became more visible. Her voice shot to a higher pitch as she screamed, "_What was that_?!" Charging forward once more, the woman made another attempt at striking the prince. "I see you're a bit concerned about that panel," she huffed between blows. Launching herself forward, she laid all her weight against the prince's chest in a mighty elbowing motion. Vegeta was able to defend himself from the blow, but with this dodging motion his shoulder blades were slammed against the board. Cacophonous _blips_ arose as buttons were smashed, ten or twenty of them, and then the lights flickered. After a moment, they sputtered off completely, and then back on—but this time, they were as red as the flashing digits—5-0-0—on the display.

The woman crumpled to the ground, face first, and red blood dribbled from her nose and mouth. And as she stirred, one more time, in a struggle to lift herself, her red cape rippled across her back to hang over her side before she collapsed. And beneath where the cape had been—and how had he missed it?—Vegeta watched the woman's tail go limp as her eyes closed. He turned her over to inspect her, reaching up to dial down the gravity as he did. Red shoulder pads—the armor obviously modeled after what had been standard issue in the days of Freeza—red shoulder wounds. Red teeth as blood dribbled from her lips down into the cracks. The medallion tucked between her armor and her skin—that was not red. But—_damn, surely it can't be_—the etched and painted anchor symbol on the back of the medallion—_that, _too, was red.


	2. 02

When she awoke in a hospital bed, but hours later, somehow she was not surprised to see him there, gazing through the window into the wing with an expression of quiet confusion. _Dumbass._ She clenched her teeth as she tried to sit up and shoot him a nasty look; she had not fully recovered and she felt an acute pain in her ribs at the attempt to shift position. What had happened? Ah, yes. The sudden increase in gravity. But—Vegeta was—

"Surprise, surprise," the prince strolled up to the bed casually. "Conscious already. But then, I guess I should expect that of a Saiyajin such as yourself, hm?" He grinned a cold, calculating grin.

"You—nngh," the woman winced once more as she raised her fist to swing for Vegeta.

"Ah—don't hurt yourself," he responded smugly, and with utmost condescension grasped her fist and lowered her arm back down. She struggled, but Vegeta hardly noticed. "Now…" he crossed his arms and waited, gazing down at her expectantly.

"What—you want an apology?" she snarled. "Go to hell!"

"An apology? Ah, for interrupting my training. I'll let it slide."

The woman growled, letting her tail thrash as she wished desperately to charge at the prince. Had she come so far for _this_? Vegeta's haughty, taunting air did not surprise her. But… "How is it that you're not in my position?" she questioned, giving a cursory glare to her bed, her bandages.

"I'm made of stronger stuff than you," Vegeta smirked. "You seem to know who I am. You should have been expecting this."

"Of course I know who you are!" she spat. "Now leave me. I mean to rest away these wounds as soon as I can. Unless you'd like to kill me now," the woman added, apparently distinctly embittered as the last phrase wafted through the air. It was only fair, after all. However he'd survived that heightened gravity, he had every right to kill her. She grimaced at the thought.

"Maybe I should." The prince paused at the doorway. "But I've better uses for my time." He turned around and seemed to dig at his collarbone for a moment before fishing something from beneath his shirt. "Besides," he held it up to gleam in the light, "I wouldn't want to kill you before you tell me where you got my father's royal medallion." He slipped from the room, watching the woman carefully as her face moved smoothly and swiftly from shock to disbelief to fury.

…

"And you're sure she's not a threat?" Bulma crossed her arms. "Seems pretty short-tempered to me."

"Yes, yes," Vegeta waved the woman's concern away. "Quite the firecracker. You've no reason to concern yourself. Trunks could beat her in his sleep. You didn't notice it, of course, but the other night I quite nearly had to do so myself."

"What?"

"Bitch snuck into the room, tried to kill me in my sleep. Doesn't know a damn thing about sensing _ki_, that's for sure, or she'd have known to suppress hers before she even got near."

"She tried to _kill you in your sleep_, Vegeta?" Bulma threw her arms into the air. "And _I'm_ the one covering her care in the hospital every time you beat her up?"

"I never told you to put her into the hospital."

"I guess," the woman huffed. "Still. Has she told you anything yet?"

"Won't tell me a thing. All she does is recover, show up thinking she's tough shit, tries to beat me, and leaves me no choice but to show her how stupid she is to keep trying."

"Wait—if she's a Saiyajin, she gets stronger every time that happens."

"Marginally. Don't worry, woman; she sure as hell is not a _Super Saiyajin_, or even close. Where she is now, she couldn't have even lasted five minutes against Freeza."

Bulma crossed her arms, frowning and nonplussed. "You know that means next to nothing to me, Vegeta."

"She's weak. Don't worry. If she's got any brains she'll tell me why she's here before I kill her out of sheer _annoyance._" Vegeta shrugged and turned on his heel to pace down the hall to the kitchen. It was true: the woman, whoever she was, was irritating beyond belief in her brashness. But even more irritating was that nearly two weeks had passed and he still didn't know who she was. Every now and then, he'd reach up to his chest to brush his fingers against the medallion as it lay beneath his shirt. He'd not shown Bulma the thing, nor anyone else; they would laugh at his sentiment, anyway. They all found it eerie enough how easily she could be mistaken for the prince at a glance, or even at a double-take.

After such peaceful times, after Goku's return to life and the occasional sparring session against the man Vegeta still considered his rival (if more casually than before), his need to brood on the past was vanishing quickly. There was little reason to reminisce; up until his time on Earth, there was hardly anything good, anyway. The newly appeared Saiyajin dropped in a substantial ripple to this pattern. Vegeta deeply wanted to strangle out of her whatever she was, whoever she was. But the woman was just about as stubborn as he, so there was no use.

He pulled out the medallion to inspect it, as if he might find his father's fingerprints there, or the ones that he as a child had left on it, reaching for it, eager to one day bear it. That it should come back to him was baffling. The woman, he was almost certain, was no older than her mid-thirties; she would not have even been alive yet to meet King Vegeta before he had been killed by Freeza. _She wouldn't have seen Planet Vegeta, either…_ Vegeta pondered. _So is she some remnant half-breed? Or perhaps the fruit of a lucky pair of Saiyajin who did not fall to the same fate as the planet? _Which was more likely? They both seemed far-fetched. But perhaps Freeza had missed a few Saiyajin here or there. They couldn't have all been on-planet at once, after all.

_She's probably conscious by now,_ Vegeta decided. He was done waiting.

…

"Stop pretending to sleep," Vegeta rumbled. "Your _ki _suggests you are very much awake. I could tell from all the way across the building."

Reluctantly, she let her eyes slide open. "I see you've gone mad during your time here on Earth. Stop spouting nonsense. It was a lucky guess." Her voice was raspy from alternate screaming and disuse, and this rasp adequately conveyed her feelings anytime she was in contact with the prince. This time was minimal, as it never took him long to beat her back down anytime she attacked, but she knew she was stronger; leaps and bounds ahead of where she had been just weeks ago. With the prince's strength, doubtless he was the Super Saiyajin. If she could only get beaten down a few more times…she smirked to herself.

"You're as much a fool as I was when I got here," Vegeta retorted, noting the slight smirk that had crept onto her face with interest as he paced across the room. "Doubtless you'll have to learn the hard way as well."

"Learn what?" she spat. "I'm not _staying _here. I came here to kill you, nothing more."

"Yes," Vegeta agreed, and his tone became smug. "Let's talk about that, shall we?"

She turned her nose up, then leaned against the headboard and pretended to fall asleep again.

"You're a damn nuisance. I'm losing patience for this game you're trying to play. Anyway, you'll never come close to my strength—not like that, at least."

"I see being the legendary Super Saiyajin has gone to your head," she noted, the small smirk returning. "I'm gaining strength faster than I ever have before."

"Legendary Super Saiyajin?" Vegeta laughed brazenly. "Please. What do _you_ know of the Super Saiyajin?"

"You know what they say. You were uncommonly strong at birth, could've overpowered your father in late childhood if you'd had the chance." She paused, narrowing her eyes in thought. "I'm no weaker, and see my condition. No Saiyajin has achieved such power before. My scouter blew up before I even entered your gravity chamber."

"You're no weaker, huh?" Vegeta repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Who do you think you are? Pretty big secret you're carrying on your shoulders, isn't it?" Once more, he retrieved the medallion from around his neck, holding it up to let it swing before his eyes. "I suppose you never served under Freeza."

"I suppose not. He blew up the planet, didn't he? Why would I show my face to him?" She bit her lip and let her brows knit. Every minute she spent in conversation with this man she could be trying to kill him. But her wounds were too recent; she could hardly even lift herself from her bed. Of course Vegeta had chosen this moment to speak to her.

"But I do suppose you have a name."

"I suppose I do."

"Tell me."

"No."

Vegeta snarled. "What's your secret, you worthless bitch?" He gripped the medallion and shook it in his fist before her. "Where'd you get this?" Exhaling slowly to regain his posture, he added quietly, "And why won't you tell me?"

"It's not worth my time to explain it," she growled. "You're dense enough, anyway. You should know. Some legendary warrior _you_ are."

He narrowed his eyes. "You have no right to throw around accusations of denseness. You see, as I stand right now, I am no Super Saiyajin." She waited. "But if I show you, just promise it won't break your poor little heart. We can't have that."

Bristling at his words, she spoke through clenched teeth, cursing her inability to dislocate his jaw. "Fine. Show me."

In not half a second, golden light flooded the room. Smirking, Vegeta replaced the medallion around his neck and leaned in to whisper into her ear. "Give up this foolishness, and bow to the Prince of the Saiyajin."

"I bow to no one, and especially not _you_!" With all the strength she could muster, the woman swung her fist up into Vegeta's jaw. He waited, completely unmoving, and with terror she let her balled fist fall to her side.

"And why 'especially not' me?" Vegeta questioned, his voice just as quietly threatening as before. He saw his reflection in her eyes. He saw his eyes in her eyes. He saw his face in her face. His iron will, her iron will. He shuddered. At the wave of panic that shivered through his spine, he raised his voice and roared through gold sparks, "_WHY?_"

"Goddamnit!" She grabbed the collar of his shirt. "I _am_ you! _A goddamn _copy_ of you!_"

His body still, Vegeta dropped out of his transformed state, his eyes locked on hers. His voice quivered. "B…bullshit." And he left.


	3. 03

They didn't see each other for days. At least, that's how Vegeta would have liked to imagine it. But there was no such luck; a certain someone had noticed his ripple of rage. Knocking on the door to the gravity chamber with an expression of curiosity and bewilderment, Goku's eyes pleaded to Vegeta to let him in. Vegeta sighed. With how quickly he'd rushed back to the gravity room after the incident, he'd still not had time to even start a workout before it was interrupted.

Well, at least the man had been polite enough not to sneak up behind him. He trudged over to the door, opening it for Goku and then slamming it shut. Vegeta leaned against the wall. "What do you want?" Knowing the answer, he paused only briefly before hurrying the topic along. "Another spar? It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, come on; let's go, fool!"

"Whoa, Vegeta!" Goku threw his hands up defensively. "Slow down." He observed Vegeta's fighting stance and was almost drawn into beginning the battle anyway. "Uh, I just noticed that you got _really _angry a few minutes ago. And I think I sensed someone else, too. Well, I mean, I've been sensing him off and on for a while, but I guess it didn't register until just now."

"_Her_," Vegeta corrected through clenched teeth. "And it's of no importance." He still had no idea why she was here—besides to kill him, of course—so a part of him did hope that she would stay long enough for him to find out why she wanted him dead in the first place. Still, the very idea of someone being a—a _clone_ of him—beyond its clear stupidity and impossibility, was vastly unappealing. After all, who could replicate _the _Prince of the Saiyajin?

Vegeta's brows knit momentarily as the thought crossed his mind. _Are there others—other Saiyajin? Alive?_

Mentally shaking himself back into sense, he spat at the ground to make his dismissal of the idea clear. _I don't even know if she was telling the truth._

_But, damn, does she look like me._

Goku crossed his arms and tilted his head, his fingers tapping impatiently against his muscles. "Vegeta? I think you're lying."

"What?"

"Look at you! It's _gotta_ be important. So? Tell me! Or else I'll go find out myself!" He grinned, challenging the prince, and raised his fingers to his forehead to show he was prepared to teleport to the object of Vegeta's distress at any moment.

"No!" Vegeta cried out, panicked. "It's…a personal matter. You've no business…"

And at that, Goku disappeared. Swearing loudly, Vegeta sprinted out of the room, and, much to his dismay, found himself heading right back to the hospital wing.

...

"Hey there!"

The woman snapped out of her simmering introspection to find a brightly dressed man before her. Something about him seemed less foreign than anything else she'd witnessed on the planet in her short time there—besides, perhaps, Vegeta himself. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Did Vegeta send you here?"

Goku laughed. "No, he tried to keep me _from_ coming here!" The woman balked at his blatant disregard of the prince's wishes, and further furrowed her brows at his phrasing. _Tried_? Goku noticed her suspicion and confusion, and tacked on, "Well, but I'm a whole lot faster than him when I use the instantaneous movement technique, of course!" He laughed again.

"F-faster?" she stammered.

"Well, yeah! Hey, here comes Vegeta!"

The woman growled and swore, clenching her fists. "He just left! Are you sure?"

"Yeah! No way I'd ever mistake anyone else's _ki_ for his, you know? Hey, speaking of which, you look an awful lot like him—your signature's pretty similar, too! Hm, he said you're a girl, right? Are you his sister?"

"Sister?" she spat, but before she could continue, Vegeta swung open the door, so quickly and with so much force that it almost shattered.

"Dammit, Kakarrot!" he shouted, and his anger was much more intense than Goku was used to seeing these days. Indeed, rather than the usual competitive tone he heard from Vegeta when they sparred, these words sounded downright _mad_. Crazed, even.

"Hey, Vegeta, is this your sister or something?" Goku tried to ignore the tone of Vegeta's voice. Perhaps it would pass.

A lengthy silence ensued, as Vegeta and the woman locked eyes. The tension in the air was palpable, each challenging the other to speak the next word. Goku's eyes darted from one to the other, and after a moment became disoriented; was Vegeta the one in the bed? No, that was the other…

"Kakarrot, eh?" the woman finally spoke. "Sounds like a Saiyajin name to me."

"It is!" Goku nearly sung, glad for the break in the silence. "I'm a Saiyajin just like Vegeta, and I guess you, too, huh?"

"You said you're faster than he is." At this, Vegeta frowned, but kept quiet. Perhaps she would challenge Goku, and then feel _true _pain—in all the ways that he had. After all, if she and he were really one and the same, she could at least take some pride in the strength of the person from whom she had been derived. But if she could feel that shame that he had felt, of being worthless…well, she would undoubtedly take her sweet time coming to terms with the other Saiyajin's strength, just as he had.

"And just a bit stronger, too!" Goku added. "Vegeta's catching up though." He sent a sidelong smirk Vegeta's way. "But it'll be a while yet before he can stand a chance against me!"

"Sounds like a challenge," the woman's eyes narrowed, this time as a smug expression overtook her features. _Could it be true?_ "Are you really stronger than Vegeta?"

"Well, he hasn't reached Super Saiyajin level three yet! So until then, I've got the edge."

"Th-three…?" The smugness leapt from her face.

"Well, there's the regular Super Saiyajin level one, that's what Vegeta was earlier when he got mad at you. Then there's the second level; Vegeta can get that one too. But I was dead for a while and in the afterlife I unlocked another level!" Goku nodded.

Gradually, the woman's smile returned, her eyes gleaming. "I must see this," she chuckled. "You, 'Kakarrot,' I must see you and Vegeta do battle. I don't believe you and I won't believe you until I've seen you beat him with my own eyes."

Goku grinned. "Yeah! Okay! Let's fight, Vegeta! You challenged me earlier, anyway!"

With wary eyes on the woman, Vegeta nodded. "I suppose you're right." He sent a challenging glare her way: a clear message that if she tried to pull anything, he would do as he saw fit with her. The stare she returned was expressionless, deadpan. _Shit,_ Vegeta cursed as he turned to lead the way out the door, _Clone or not, she masks her intent every bit as well as I do._ But he cleared the thought from his mind. He was more than strong enough to keep her in line, and was sure he'd had a hell of a lot more experience dealing with creeps like her than she'd had of dealing with people like him. After all, _he'd_ worked under Freeza.

Noting the relatively poor condition of the woman, Goku tried to scoop her up into his arms to hurry the process along. He was met with a sharp blow across the face and a barrage of insults, and when he released her she tried to clamber out of the hospital bed herself, with limited success. She leaned heavily against the wall. "I'm not helpless," she seethed.

"Man, Vegeta, what did you do to her?" Goku kept his eyes on her, concerned.

"What any reasonable man would do after someone has tried to kill him—however unsuccessfully—on ten separate occasions," Vegeta lifted his nose to the air and closed his eyes.

"She's not that strong, Vegeta!" Goku whispered, not very subtly. "You don't need to kill her just for trying to kill you, for goodness' sake!"

"Of course not, Kakarrot; I still needed information from her."

"Vegeta…"

The two Saiyajin paused mid-conversation to glance back; the woman was far behind them, hobbling as well as she could manage, dragging her shoulder against the wall.

"You sure you don't need help?"

"No!" she nearly screamed.

"Please," Vegeta snorted, rolling his eyes. He strode quickly back to meet her, and roughly swung her over his shoulder. The prince shivered a bit at the realization that likely this really was his own flesh against him, his own body. Simultaneously he felt heat rising to his ears and vomit rising through his throat. The vomit won, and he struggled not to cough it up.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" she whispered. "But you're far too curious and far too tame to kill me now."

"And _you're_ far too weak to kill _me_," Vegeta concluded defensively. "So shut the hell up." He retched again. This was him! _Him!_ How had this atrocity, this monster, come to exist? He would ask later; fearing, now, that if he opened his mouth again more than just rage and interrogation would spill out.

"Come on, guys!" Goku called. He eyed them curiously. _How strange,_ he mused. _It looks like Vegeta carrying Vegeta! …Wow, he looks ill. I hope he's well enough to fight._ He stretched his arms out, rounding the corner and swinging open the door to the backyard. _Maybe it's the stale indoor air._

"All right, Kakarrot," Vegeta exited as well, nearly throwing his counterpart aside. "I'm ready."

"Let's go a little farther away," Goku suggested. "I really want to go all-out! I know you were holding back on me last time!"

The pre-battle banter sent Vegeta's blood flowing faster, and he was feeling better with each breath he took in of the smirking challenge Goku offered. "_Me_ holding back on _you_? Kakarrot, you didn't even power up all the way. I expect you to treat this like a _real_ fight this time!" He was shedding the day's uncertainty and insecurity, trading panic and fury for adrenaline and the promise of a rush that would wash his woes away, at least for a while.

...

They relocated to some previously designated arena a distance away; a wide and rocky clearing.

"Now let's skip the warm-up and get at it, Vegeta!" Goku called. "We'll show your sister a _real_ exciting fight!" Neither of the other two bothered to correct him.

The prince glanced to the side, eyes fixed on the woman as she sat, shifting positions to accommodate her injuries. Goku noted her struggle and an idea seemed to strike him. "One second, Vegeta! I'll be right back!"

And he was right back, appearing again within seconds and with a small bag in his hands. "A _senzu_," he held it out to the woman. "Go ahead, eat it. It'll heal your wounds so you can watch the fight more comfortably. You might have to move around a bit to keep up with us! I can't believe I didn't think of it before we got here," he added apologetically. Goku turned to Vegeta. "Karin said there were only two in this crop, so I took the other one for whoever loses this match!" He grinned and added boldly, "So in that case, maybe _you_ should hold onto it!" And at Vegeta's scoffing and shrugging off of the remark, he turned back to the woman. "Well? Come on, don't you want to feel better?"

Fixing her eyes on Goku—_pure honesty, that one_—she popped the bean into her mouth and crunched. A bizarre tingling sensation permeated through her limbs as she continued to chew, and she felt her power jump yet again, if only marginally in comparison to the other two Saiyajin. She smirked.

Goku grinned. "Great, huh? All right, Vegeta! Let's get started!"

Vegeta nodded, glancing one last time toward the woman as she settled against a boulder to watch before the whole of his attention was sucked into battle.

...

He saw her one more time that day.

As Goku fired another blast, Vegeta's battered body was sent flying through a rock formation, and, limp, struck the ground—

_Wait—_

The woman seized the collar of his shirt with one hand, and swiftly drove the other hand through his throat. Sick noises—choking, blood-sputtering clamor, unintelligible utterances—sick—sick, terrible noises—emanated from Vegeta's gullet for several moments before he fell silent.

"And that," she whispered, "is the last time you will make the mistake of becoming so soft." Dropping him, she began to raise two fingers to her head, but before they even came into contact with her skin, she found herself pinned to the ground.

Under Goku's boot, she quaked in fear, and above her, Goku quaked in fury. Words hissed from his mouth: "Don't. Move."


	4. 04

Their eyes remained locked and their mouths shut for seconds or minutes—how hot their skin sizzled under the sun the only marker for time as each waited: one in fear, afraid to move, afraid to speak; the other in rage, content to bury his boot into her gut as long as he pleased, maybe until she cried.

"Y-you won't kill me," the woman finally stuttered, and the quiver in her voice only served to make her more fearful. She added with marginally more conviction, "I've met your type before."

A blinding flare blazed across the horizon, a signal to prove her wrong. Now above her Goku's hair had lengthened, his brows tucked beneath ridges, making him more monster than man. She gasped as the pressure against her stomach increased exponentially, in what must have seemed only a slight shift of weight for Goku. As he waited, silent, in this position, her breathing became quicker under the pressure.

"Don't make me do to you what I did to the last guy who made me watch one of my friends die," Goku breathed, his words scarcely more than articulated growling. His own chest was heaving, under strain not to press his foot farther in, under strain not to scream out a kiai that would tear through her flesh.

Her silence was a fearful compliance, and after a moment more Goku returned to his base state. Slowly and deliberately, with his eyes fixed on hers, he lifted his foot from her. She remained still in that position, watching carefully as the man shifted his attention to other matters. Goku turned with almost visible dread to Vegeta, the violent scene that spelled out every detail of his death but the woman's expression as she had performed the act. With little more than a twitch of his eyebrow, Goku blasted a hole into the ground. "I never thought I'd have to bury you like this twice, Vegeta," he murmured, picking up the prince's body. He gently supported the head as it threatened to tumble from the body. "Don't worry. We'll get you back soon and we can sort all this out."

The woman followed Goku's hands as they laid Vegeta inside the hole and then slowly and ceremoniously covered him with soil. She had never before witnessed such a ritual. Just under her throat she was screaming, screaming to make him do it the proper way, screaming about if _she _was ever disposed of like _that…_ But the quiet respect with which he performed the task suggested that this must have _some_ meaning. She was struck by the deep care this Kakarrot appeared to show for Vegeta; in the limited interaction she had seen, they seemed little more than casual sparring partners, and this man had clearly annoyed Vegeta. If they were the only two Saiyajin on this planet, she supposed, they would likely be forced to spar together no matter how much they hated each other.

As Goku finished, he paused for a few moments, closing his eyes, and then he stood up and straightened his back. He seemed hesitant to turn and face the murderer again, and after a few moments she finally spoke. "Who…who was the last…to…"

"To kill one of my friends?" Goku responded, his voice harsh, as he still faced away. "Or to kill Vegeta, the first time I buried him?" He paused. "The same person: Freeza."

"I thought Vegeta was the one who…"

"No." He seemed to regard the recently disturbed soil one last time before whispering, "I'm sorry I was too late, Vegeta. I didn't know…" Finally, he turned around, and his eyes spelled out without question that he was still thinking about ways to make her suffer. "Tell me. Why?"

"It's…complicated," she edged out. Goku noticed that while her fear of him shone through, her face showed no hint of remorse or regret, no sorrow, no apology. Standing up, she breathed deeply. "Well, are you going to kill me? Kakarrot?"

Goku shivered at hearing the name from another's mouth, but his eyes remained steel. "No. Vegeta didn't, and I also have my reasons."

She didn't ask, didn't want to know, shook at the thought of what wrath this godlike man could wreak upon her. "Very well. I have no other business here, but I suppose it's fruitless for me to ask to leave."

"_No_," Goku barked sharply. "You may not leave. And you _do_ have other business here. That man you just killed has a family. They'll expect to know a reason for his absence." And she knew that she had no choice in the matter; she would be the one to tell them what she had done, or this man would keep her here until her death. "Now, you never told me your name," his voice had softened substantially, and she was taken aback by this apparent indifference to the past few minutes. "Or how you're related to Vegeta."

The woman inhaled deeply. "I am copied from Vegeta's genetics."

Goku seemed to mull this over. "Okay…so your name?"

"Vegeta. Naturally."

This response seemed to affect Goku at some deeper level, and his breath shook for a split-second. "All right. Well, _this _Vegeta is the only Vegeta I know," he asserted, once more nodding toward the heap of soil. "I'm going to call you something else. Hm," he furrowed his brows in thought, "something _like _Vegeta, because you do look a lot like him…but kind of different…oh, I know! How about Vejata?" He phrased it as a question, but it was clear that he had made up his mind.

"I—" her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "No! My name is Vegeta!"

"Well, I'm calling you Vejata."

She could not believe his insolence—to _her_, of all people! Didn't he realize who she was? "No!"

"Well, you keep calling me Kakarrot. But I call myself Son Goku."

"Nonsense. You are a Saiyajin. You should keep a Saiyajin name!"

"I may be a Saiyajin, but I was raised here on Earth."

"Why? Why are you here?" Her knowledge of the past was by no means modest, but it was limited. Why would the Saiyajin have sent a child to be raised on another planet? _Unless…_

"Well," Goku seemed to reflect for a moment. "Well, I was supposed to kill off everyone here. But, I bumped my head and forgot all that, and, well, I grew up here and made friends and everything just like anyone else. I even have a family!"

"You…mated with one of them?"

"Er, yeah," he laughed uncomfortably. "I mean—I guess we're more or less the same, y'know, physically. Anyway, I have a wife and two sons, see, and Vegeta's got a son and, well, I guess Bulma's not really his wife, but…" he trailed off.

"Half-breeds," her nose crinkled. "In the royal line, even."

Goku nearly grinned. "Say what you will, they're stronger than you are!"

Vejata grimaced, already in disbelief that this was the same man who had first nearly killed her, then quietly buried his comrade. She resolved to shut up, hoping that Goku would follow her example.

"Anyway," and Goku's voice darkened again, "it's time you go tell Bulma and Trunks what you've done. Then we can leave to bring Vegeta back."

"Bring…back?" she had to speak.

"Sure, with the dragon balls! 'Course, I could just teleport us there. But," he paused, "you need some time to set things straight first. So we're going to take a ship."

"No," she shook her head. "No, no, I just killed him! He can't come back. I don't know what kind of bullshit you're making up, but he's dead. You saw him."

"Didn't you hear me?" Goku nearly roared, his hair standing on end at the realization that she wasn't speaking out of disbelief—she simply _wanted him dead_. "Freeza killed him once before! How do you think he stands…_stood_ before you today?"

"I…"

"He died again, too, one other time. He gave up his life trying to save his loved ones from Buu." Goku struggled to slow his breaths, to calm down. "You think you're just like him? Just as good as him?" Goku paused. "If killing you was the only thing I could do to bring him back, I would." There was no hesitation. "He's changed a lot." Goku considered the woman before him. "You could, too. But…" his mouth twitched, "you could never replace Vegeta."

For a moment, Goku was sure he had misspoken, for Vejata's eyes hazed over unexpectedly. But by the time he opened his mouth to clarify himself, she had returned to her normal state.

"Where is that medallion he stole from me?" she spoke, eventually. "I will need it before I return home."

"Wasn't he wearing it?" Goku had noted the presence of the object around Vegeta's neck one previous time they had crossed paths recently, but hadn't asked.

"No. I would have noticed when I killed him."

Goku's stomach heaved in disbelief that she could speak with such a lack of respect or sentiment. _If she's copied from Vegeta, shouldn't she care about him? A little bit?_ "Why did they copy Vegeta?" he blurted.

"Haven't you asked enough of me for today? If you visit my home, maybe you will understand."

"Why? What's your home?"

"I doubt you know it. New Vegeta."

"N-New…are there more Saiyajin?"

She raised her eyebrows to display her incredulousness, a silent motion pointing to herself.

"Oh…yeah. Whoa! Let's go!"

"The medallion," she insisted.

"I'll bet it's in his and Bulma's room," Goku guessed. He disappeared, and in seconds was back with it. "This thing?" It dangled from his fingers before her.

"Don't touch it!" she shrieked, snatching it from him and fixing it around her neck. "Dammit…"

"So…that's all you need?"

She frowned, confused. "Yes, but…" Before she could speak any further, Goku had grabbed her shoulder, and moments later were standing before Bulma.

"Hey Bulma! Borrowing a ship!" Goku shouted, already sprinting down the hallway. "Come on, Vejata!"

With one quick glance toward Bulma, the Saiyajin took off after Goku.

"G-Goku…?" Bulma called down the hallway. But she heard the roaring of one of the space ships she and her father had designed as it burst into the sky, and slumped against the wall. _Well, at least that asshole chick is leaving. I wonder if Vegeta knows…_


	5. 05

"So," Goku smiled, excited, as the ship exited the atmosphere. "Can you put in the coordinates? For New Vegeta?"

Vejata paced over to the panel, observing it critically. "Yes," she responded finally. "But I thought you were deadset on…"

"Oh, we just have to make sure we wish Vegeta back within the year! It should be plenty of time," Goku assured her.

"Wish?"

"Like I said before, with the dragon balls! The ones on Earth can't wish someone back more than once. So we have to go to New Namek. But first," he grinned, "I wanna meet the other Saiyajin!" He glanced toward the ceiling, daydreaming. "Maybe someday, I can try t' teach 'em all how to go Super Saiyajin…"

As she finished entering the coordinates, Vejata turned to Goku. "I'm the strongest of them. If anyone can do it, it's me." There was no way she would be able to resume her duties, not like this, not this much weaker than not one, but _two_ Saiyajin, not to mention their offspring. "Teach me."

"I was planning on it!" Goku gave her a hearty pat on the back, and she winced at the contact. "One day you could even be a pretty good sparring partner for Vegeta and I!"

She grimaced at his sheer foolishness. _The moment I become a good sparring partner is the moment I kill you_, she seethed to herself. _I wasn't planning on it, but then, I wasn't planning on finding any Saiyajin stronger than Vegeta._ It was certainly a bump in the road, but it could be remedied. Even alive, there was a chance he wouldn't be a threat—but she wasn't worried that _he_ would make a move for power; rather, she was concerned that after seeing his power, the people might reject her. The man himself, now that he was no longer fighting, seemed more a child. He had forgotten his promise, that he would make her tell Vegeta's mate what had happened to him, in the flurry of excitement of finding there were more Saiyajin.

His eyes continued to glimmer as he pondered on what a great opponent he could make of her, and she experienced the distinct feeling that he was not concerned with the fact that they were Saiyajin in and of itself—but more the potential that he might find in the race. Her tail whipped around behind her, agitated, proud.

"Hey," Goku suddenly snapped out of his reverie, "Vejata." She flinched, and, gritting her teeth, turned to face him. "Vegeta was a prince, right? So are you a princess?"

"No," she answered simply.

"Why not? I thought for sure…"

She held up the medallion, as if that would answer all his questions.

"Yeah, Vegeta didn't have that… But he was under Freeza for so long. Y'know, Freeza seemed like the kinda guy who'd take that stuff away from someone. Is it…really important?"

"Your insolence is sickening," she replied curtly. "But I suppose you must be forgiven, if you did indeed suffer such brain damage."

"Sorry," Goku shrugged, "but I guess I was shipped away as a baby, right? I wouldn't know any of that culture stuff either way. Even if I didn't bump my head." He laughed, as if this would relieve the tension so obviously controlling her body that it was emanating into the space around her.

"This," she answered, quietly, holding up the medallion to show its back to Goku, and pointing to the symbol etched upon it, "is the royal seal." Goku observed it in silence, leaning in closer. "And this," Vejata continued, now turning the medallion over and suspending it by its beaded string, "this medallion is quite nearly _sacred_ to the Saiyajin."

"Why?"

"Only the ruling monarch may wear it. For Vegeta to have done so earlier was a dangerous decision. But there was nothing I could do about it, anyway," she frowned, "at the time."

"Oh…so…why couldn't he wear it?"

"He didn't kill me."

"What?"

"I am the Queen of New Vegeta. The Queen of the Saiyajin." She paused to let it sink in, but decided to continue upon the realization that it likely never would. "In order to establish himself as the ruler, he would need to kill the reigning Saiyajin."

"Oh. So if I killed you…" and as he spoke, she pulled herself into a defensive stance. "I'm not going to!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Promise. But if I did, then would I be king?"

Vejata frowned. "I'm…not sure. No one from outside the Vegeta family has ever won the throne," she turned away, apparently more interested in the brightly lit buttons of the control panel. "At least not in recorded history." She let her fingers hover above the panel thoughtfully. "But if you were able to prove your superiority to me by killing me, likely you would win the loyalty of the Saiyajin. We are not a sentimental people." She pulled her hand back and drew it against her as she crossed her arms. "Perhaps whoever rules may be considered the most sentimental of them all, for he wears this ancient piece of jewelry with such pride. But," she touched it, "it is all we have."

Goku sat down on a nearby chair, kicking his legs up to let them rest against the edge of the panel. "So how come Vegeta was never a king? I mean before you showed up, when we were the only Saiyajin around. He always called himself a prince."

"There was no king to kill." She adjusted her left glove carefully. "Since he believed King Vegeta to have been killed by Freeza."

"You mean he wasn't?"

"No."

Goku thought about this for a moment. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

She grasped the medallion once more. "Because I killed him."

...

Goku yawned, stretching out and curling his toes as he did so. After Vejata had told him she was the one who had killed King Vegeta, she had refused to answer any other questions, telling him that she was going to rest. He'd decided there would be plenty of time to talk to her later, and let her be, opting for a nap himself. There was so much information to process; best to sleep on it. However, now his stomach was grumbling loudly enough that he couldn't hear his own thoughts. Goku stretched his toes out and set them to the ground, hopping up and sauntering over to a set of cabinets and drawers. He pulled out a small capsule and depressed the button on top, and before him appeared a refrigerator. Grinning at Bulma's genius, and Vegeta's tendency to always keep one spaceship well-stocked in case he felt like training in space on a whim, Goku swung the door open to reveal slabs of ham, whole turkeys, and even several sealed containers of rice, all pre-cooked.

As he polished off a third turkey, he noticed that the food seemed to be disappearing faster than it was going into his stomach. Glancing to the side, Goku spotted the reason: Vejata, now awake, was leaning against the counter, casually finishing off a side of beef. "Oh, hey," Goku greeted her, mouth full. He swallowed. "Y' could've asked."

"I saw no need," she made her way back to the icebox and fished out a comparatively small piece of pork.

"Hey! Don't eat that one!"

Shrugging, she popped it into her mouth.

"Waah!" Goku cried out, distressed. "I was saving it! That was the best part! You jerk, you're _just like _Vegeta!"

She grinned maliciously, pacing away. "I saw that there is a sizable gravity room in this ship. I'll be waiting there."

Huffing, Goku finished up his meal. "Stupid…" he grumbled.

...

"Hey," Goku nodded to Vejata as he entered the room. As he began his warm-up stretches, he looked her over. "Y'know, I've been thinking," he started, and when she didn't stir from her meditative concentration, he continued, "you said you were copied from Vegeta. But you're a girl, right?"

At this, she opened one eye. "Yes, I am female."

"So, how come you're a girl if Vegeta's a guy? That's not a very good copy, if you ask me!"

One corner of her mouth turned down. "No, it's not, is it? I'm told I was a bit of a…compromise." Goku raised his eyebrows in interest. "Obviously I am a…I suppose you could call me a _clone_ of Vegeta. That is what they wanted, after all. But, there were some technological limitations…"

"'What they wanted'?" Goku repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Must you know _everything_?" she sighed.

"Well, we're friends, aren't we? I want to know more about you."

She scoffed at his wording, but supposed that she had no choice. _Not that it will matter, anyway_,_ in the end,_ she decided. "You'll notice that I am significantly younger than Vegeta," Vejata started. "Younger than yourself, as well. I was not created until well after the destruction of Planet Vegeta."

"So you know that Freeza blew it up, right?"

"Yes. That is why I am here." Goku tilted his head slightly, and leaned heavily against one leg to stretch it. "You imagine that with all the Saiyajin working under Freeza, not _one _of them would have caught wind of his plans? Not one of them would have overheard some conversation?" She made her way toward the controls of the gravity chamber, and dialed one knob until the display read "150G." It had been about the top of her comfort zone, but she was pleased to note that her strength increases during her time on Earth had done away with that barrier. "Someone did—someone high enough up that King Vegeta took heed of his advice: 'Leave, and take with you only those whose absence will not be noticed.'"

"But wouldn't someone have noticed that he was gone?" Goku scratched his head. "I mean, wouldn't everyone notice the king wasn't there? He was a big deal, right? Wouldn't Freeza notice?"

"You think someone whose position means that thousands yearn to kill him each day would not regularly take some precautions?" she crossed her arms. "Especially since he was a man who needed to project strength. He wasn't so powerful, in reality. He had a number of trusted doubles, to be where he could not. Some were stronger than him," and she seemed to travel back in time, perhaps remembering something she had learned from experience. "They were content not to kill him for the pay they received, and certain _privileges_ granted to make up for the extent to which their lives were controlled."

She smirked as her body only started complaining once the gravity hit two hundred times the Earth's. "As for Freeza, it's not as if he paid special attention to the Saiyajin until they struck him as a threat." She popped her knuckles, turning to Goku. "He wouldn't know one King Vegeta from the next. He probably didn't even know he had look-alikes. Freeza, I hear, pinned us for morons. By and large, this is true." She tilted her neck from side to side, and it popped too. "But only the clever live long enough to rule successfully. The Vegeta clan, I guess we always trained the next in line to make sure he's got his wits about him. Of course, in an environment like that, anyone else who wants the throne gets very smart, very fast."

"Okay," Goku nodded, his eyes glazed over as he tried to process it all, put it in context. "So…so…King Vegeta got away then."

"And some of his men, as well. Someone had the brilliant foresight to bring along samples of Vegeta's—Prince Vegeta's—blood, skin, hair, whatever they had. They knew they would have no way to get him back, under Freeza's care. They also knew that he was one of the strongest Saiyajin to be born in the last millennium. The legendary Super Saiyajin, no doubt," she grew bitter with the irony—here before her must be the alleged legendary Super Saiyajin, if there ever was one. A month before, she would have sworn it to be herself. "They were worried that King Vegeta wouldn't be able to _recreate_ him, so to speak," Vejata continued. "He had had other…_less successful_ offspring."

"Oh," Goku nodded slowly, and summarized, "they wanted a copy of Vegeta 'cause they thought he was gonna be the legendary Super Saiyajin. All right. And I guess they figured Freeza would kill the real one eventually, right?"

"Well, he did, didn't he?"

"Yeah…so, you still haven't answered my question, though. Why are you a girl?"

"Patience. Do you want to know the story or not?"

Goku nodded. "Yeah," he answered quietly, a tinge of guilt apparent in his voice.

"It's not as if the Saiyajin are geared toward creating technology," she continued. "So they had no way of copying Vegeta themselves. After some years of travel, though, the group who survived Freeza's attack found themselves in just the right place: a planet they had been planning on simply using for resources turned out to house bizarre life-forms. Its inhabitants were, well, _an inhabitant._ Many cell units, all conscious of one another—they could modify their type and purpose to suit the will of the organism."

Goku cocked one eyebrow. "O-kay…?"

She frowned. "Think of…think of the humans. They are all different, aren't they? All separate from one another?"

"Well, of course!"

"But, if they all decide something has to be done, or say, some sort of governing power decides something has to be done—the people do it, don't they?"

"Er, mostly, I guess," Goku nodded.

"This is a lot like that—but if you could rely on each person to do his duty every time it's asked of him."

"Oh. All right…"

Sighing, she continued. "Physically weak, it had come to use ingenuity and technology to defend itself. If enough of it was destroyed, its ability to function could be compromised—it became very intelligent, very capable of creating what was needed for its defense. But it was under attack by a stronger force than it had ever encountered. And then the Saiyajin came."

Goku tilted his head toward her slightly, to indicate that he was listening carefully as the story seemed to come to a head.

"They struck a bargain: that this being find a way to copy their legendary Super Saiyajin, in return for its protection. As you would imagine, it complied. However, its understanding of the genetics of such beings as Saiyajin was limited." She glanced down at herself, flexing her hands. "Not fully comprehending the differences between the two sex-determining chromosomes, it was only able to produce females without potentially extensive further research."

"All right," Goku nodded. "I think I get it. They didn't care if Vegeta came out a girl anyway, so they just went with that."

"Not quite," she frowned. "There was concern that with King Vegeta's increasing age, a power vacuum was becoming ever more likely. They needed an heir, fast. If the female was at least similar to Vegeta in power, she would be able to kill King Vegeta before someone too weak to deserve the throne did. They dared not risk the wait."

"Oh."

"I was one of three that survived the gestation period. But I was far stronger than they, and they did not make it to a year's age." Vejata paused. "Happy? Does that explain it well enough?"

"Yeah," Goku nodded. "Wow. What happened to that weird alien?"

"The Saiyajin killed off the race that was attacking it. Then, they left with me, confident that I would survive. The Saiyajin only kept up their end of the bargain as long as they needed to," and she seemed pleased with this. "Eventually, they found a planet suitable for inhabitance, and New Vegeta was founded. One may assume that the being that produced the clones was eventually attacked and destroyed by another, even more powerful race, confirmed to live not so far away." She chuckled. "The limited communications the Saiyajin had with it from New Vegeta came to an abrupt and…_inexplicable…_halt." Vejata grinned, perhaps imagining the violence suffered by the being that had brought her into existence; the strong living on, the weak perishing as it should.

"So that other race was really strong?" Goku's excitement seemed to grow again.

"Nothing in comparison to a group of Oozaru," her eyes gleamed, "but for a glorified slime mold? Yes."

"Oh." Goku seemed disappointed, perhaps partly because of the death of an interesting organism, but likely more because he'd been hoping for another challenge. "Oh well."

"Have you had enough of a history lesson?"

Goku grinned. "Yeah."

"How long do you think it will take you—to teach me to ascend?"

"Longer every minute you stand here talking," Goku laughed, teasing, and then answered more seriously, with brows drawn together as he smirked, "I guess it just depends on how much you want it."

Vejata grinned back. _More than you could know._

"Let's see what you can do," Goku bent his legs and drew up his arms. "Come at me!"


	6. 06

Vejata knew she was beaten before she even swung a punch, but still her blood sung with the verve of a good fight. Unlike Vegeta, whose responses to her attacks had been little more than overpowered slaps on the wrist that, in the end, sent her back to the hospital wing time and time again, Goku started at a very low base power and worked his way up as she challenged him.

At any moment, Goku could ascend to the third level and slaughter her. But he didn't. And she knew he wouldn't.

She carefully ducked Goku's fist and curled her smaller form carefully before unleashing a kick to his gut. Goku slid across the floor before his bare feet caught a grip against it, and he launched himself toward her, disappearing just before he struck her face to kick her between the shoulder blades instead. Vejata slammed to the floor, and as she flipped around to rest against her back, she twisted her feet quickly, using them to knock Goku against the ground as well.

Surprised by her luck, she quickly dove atop Goku and drew her hand back, preparing for the final strike. Her hand, fingers straight and rigid, sliced through the air—

"_No._" Goku gripped her hand. His eyes were pained although his body had been barely even scratched. He breathed heavily. "You were going to do it…weren't you?"

Her hand was caught tight within Goku's, and she did not struggle to remove it. She held her gaze steady into his. "Yes. Of course I was."

"Wh…why?" his voice seemed to quiver in disbelief.

"We are far away; your offspring would never know where you had gone. I have guaranteed safe passage home."

"No—what if the ship ran out of fuel?"

She raised her first two fingers to her brow. "A bit closer, and I can find my home."

"I-Instantaneous Movement? I thought…I thought you couldn't sense _ki._"

Her response was accompanied by a frustrated growl, "No, I can't."

"Then how do you teleport?" His hold on her hand did not loosen.

"I can't imagine why you would need to sense _ki_," she focused on her two raised fingers momentarily. "All I have to do is be within range of someone I know and focus on them."

"Ah!" Goku smiled a bit. "I'll bet you really _are _sensing _ki_ then!"

She shook her head. "I've been able to do this for as long as I can remember."

"You…didn't receive any training? From the Yardratjin?"

"No. Who the hell are they?"

"Mm," Goku looked at his own fingers thoughtfully. "Maybe the technique we know isn't the same, then. I just thought it was because you also do this," and he demonstrated the usual course of action—raising his first two fingers to his forehead.

Vejata watched him carefully, thinking. "Perhaps they are derived from the same source."

"But how would you know it? It took me a long time to learn."

"Maybe a remnant of the influence of the creature responsible for my creation," she reasoned. "Perhaps it knew of…"

"Yardrat."

"Yes."

After a moment's pause, Goku leaned in, eyes serious. "Vejata. I want to help you." His grip on her hand tightened. "But if you obsess over killing me, you'll get nowhere." She felt the bones in her hand might snap at any moment. "Listen to me, and I know I can help you become a Super Saiyajin. Vegeta had it in him, so you must too." He took in a deep breath. "I don't give a damn about ruling your planet. So just…stop."

She inhaled and exhaled slowly.

"Tell me when you're ready to train." He released her hand. His voice dipped down into disappointment. "To _really_ train. And not a moment sooner."

Vejata stretched her fingers, saw that they were all intact. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already gone.

...

"Trunks!" Bulma called to her son as he came sprinting through the door, Goten close behind. They came to a screeching halt, frozen in place with horror etched upon their faces.

"We didn't do it!" they both spoke at once.

She shot them a scrutinizing frown.

"Well, it was more like this, we were gonna go straight home after school—"

"But then…"

"But then Goten really had to pee—"

"But it was windy out…"

"So we really only—"

"This is serious!" Bulma shouted suddenly. "Trunks, where is your father?"

"Dad? Um…I guess I haven't seen him since this morning."

"What were you two talking about just now?"

"Nothing!" they both piped up at once.

Sighing, Bulma raised a hand to her forehead and massaged her temples. "Boys, I need you to tell me where Vegeta is right now."

"Hmm," and they both knit their brows in concentration. She waited impatiently, rapping fingers against the countertop.

"Hey, stop it!" Goten pouted. "I can't focus!"

"Oh…sorry," she drew her hand back and resorted to tapping her fingers against her hips more quietly.

"I can't find 'im," Trunks finally decided.

"Me either."

"He might be really far away," Trunks offered.

"Maybe he was already waiting in the ship for Goku…" she sighed. "I'll try to contact them. Come on," Bulma glanced back at them. "I'm not letting you boys out of my sight."

...

Goku let his legs swing to and fro as he sat in the chair, leaning against his elbow and observing the screen. It would still take a while for them to get to New Vegeta… He was restless: not sleepy, and, for once, not hungry. Even more alarming was the sour taste in his mouth when he thought of challenging Vejata to another fight. For so long, his and Vegeta's sparring matches had been intense and dangerous. But not since the first time they had fought had they been life-threatening or so utterly underhanded.

_I guess this is her first fight with me, in a way,_ Goku sighed. _Vegeta would have done the same thing, way back when, I guess. But…_ He scratched his head absently. _Maybe not. Would he have deliberately made himself the last Saiyajin?_ This woman seemed yet sneakier than Vegeta, completely unconcerned with any form of honor. _Maybe that's just what happens when you spend your whole life having to trick and kill people._ He huffed and leaned against his elbow. _I don't get why she cares so much about being Queen or whatever. But I guess even if she didn't want to be, then someone would still have to kill her._

He flexed the hand with which he had held hers in place earlier. _If Vegeta was ever really like her, he's changed a lot since then._

_She knows I'm not going to kill her. Why does she feel like she has to do away with me?_

But he knew—knew that she saw him as a threat, and the more people that were stronger than she, the sooner she would die. She wasn't so much younger than him, physically—he'd spent eight years of his life dead, not aging. Goku had to remember that she might only know as much as Vegeta had, when he had appeared on Earth—knew nothing of Cell, or Buu—or of the tight bonds woven between even friends and enemies when push came to shove.

He felt compelled to see her, if she could really look so similar to Vegeta if she acted so differently. But as Goku approached her, curled defensively on one of the ship's cots, there was no denying it: she looked just like Vegeta—she smelled just like Vegeta. Only a subtle curve of her hip and gentle slope across her chest distinguished her from the man, only a slightly plumper lip and the higher pitch of her breathing.

And her scent, maybe just a bit more of the metallic blood that might never wash from her hands.

Her eyes shot open and her chest seemed to jump at the sight of Goku so close to her. "Get the hell away from me!" she hissed.

"Y-yeah," Goku nodded. "Yeah. Okay." He stepped away until his back hit the wall, palms in the air and facing her in surrender, red hands, white flag.

"What are you looking at?" she spoke, her voice low.

"N-nothing. Just that you look so much like Vegeta."

"Of course I do, dumbass. I have nearly identical genes."

"But kind of different, you know?" he hurried. "You're not the same."

"Yes. You said I could never replace _your_ Vegeta."

"No. You couldn't," he agreed.

"Don't you realize," she sat up, and her tail struck the bed repeatedly in her agitation. "That that's the very reason I was created?"

"I…"

"I won't take offense. I know that I'm doing a better job than he ever could."

"I, I don't…"

She leapt from the bed and paced up to Goku. He felt like the smaller one. "Now leave me to rest. If what you say is true, you'll have dear _Vegeta Mark One_ back soon enough." The bitterness in her voice was undeniable. _If only I could have killed him earlier, _she seethed. _If he gets what he wants, I'll have to kill Vegeta again. And it will be much harder the second time around…_

"S-sure," Goku nodded. "Yeah." He turned away from Vegeta—_no, Vejata, Vejata—_and left.

She carefully collapsed onto the cot. _Unbelievable._

_..._

"Damn it, answer!" Bulma pounded on the screen, but to no avail. Trunks and Goten looked on from behind her, partly in concern, partly in fear. "It's no use, guys. Either they're training, sleeping, or not bothering to answer." She crossed her arms and blew her bangs out of her eyes defiantly. "I'm starting to think I'm worrying all for nothing. It would be just like them to run off like that." She kicked the wall in frustration. "Stupid Vegeta, stupid Goku, and especially stupid asshole Vegeta look-alike bitch!" Bulma screamed, and turned to find horror in Goten's eyes and vast amusement in her son's.

"You sure got it in for her, don'tcha, Mom?"

"You bet I do! Probably the one who dragged them away in the first place!"

"I think we should go ask Mister Piccolo about it," Goten suggested quietly. "He's really smart. Maybe he knows."

With an exasperated sigh, Bulma ruffled the boys' hair as she passed by them. "Guess it can't hurt. All right, kiddos, I can't fly like you can, so—"

So they each grabbed one of her arms and shot out the door, and the screaming woman kicked her feet madly in protest, to no avail.

...

Goku sat in the gravity room, meditating. Training under high gravity wasn't his preferred way of going about things, at least not in recent times.

He thought of Vegeta, waiting in the afterlife to be wished back, probably cursing him at this very moment for not simply teleporting to New Namek. Goku knew that Enma would watch over Vegeta's body even if the prince was not allowed into Heaven—_but maybe he would be, by now!_—so there was no need for urgency. "I'm sorry, Vegeta," he spoke quietly. "I have to do this. I know she can change. But right now, if I wish you back, she'll just try to kill you again. Or maybe you'd even try to kill her…" Falling out of his meditative position, he leaned his head against his palm. "Can't say I'd blame you."

Flashes of Vegeta's gruesome death hit his lids, images of his mangled throat, blood leaking everywhere, empty eyes…more violet, more personal than what Freeza had done. And he had been too late, too slow, again. "I'm sorry, Vegeta. And I hope…she will be, too."

"I will be what?"

"Oh! You're up!" Goku shook the images out of his head.

She inclined her head. "I will avoid killing you. For now, and _only_ for now. When we get to New Vegeta, all bets are off. These are my terms."

Goku smiled.


	7. 07

"I think the first thing you need to learn," Goku started, pacing across the room, "is how to sense ki. That's really the most important."

She raised an eyebrow dubiously. "I seem to have gotten along without." But her eyes snapped wide open as the hairs on the back of her neck stood to touch Goku's hand, millimeters away.

"Yeah?" he whispered from behind her. "Dunno, I'd say you're a dead man. Er…woman…you know…"

Vejata exhaled heavily, shakily. No one had ever come so close to ending her so quickly. _And of all people, it's a Saiyajin with a goddamn conscience._

"If you'd've known how to sense ki, you'd've seen it coming," he stated matter-of-factly. "You would have felt me right behind you with enough time to react. Well," he winked, "_that _time. I did it nice and slow for you."

She growled at his condescension, but noticed that he didn't seem to find anything wrong with what he'd said, meant no malice by it.

"I mean," he chattered on, "I could do it super fast and you wouldn't have a chance. Not right now. 'Course you're a skilled fighter, so you'd expect something like that anyway." He paused. "Hm. Yeah, and with slower opponents you can nearly feel them coming before they even move. It's really pretty handy. Here, let me show you. C'mon, gimme your best! If you can touch anything but my finger, you win."

She furrowed her brows, partly in confusion, partly in determination. _What does he mean?_ Vejata charged, furtively but quickly moving her body from one side to the other. With her speed would seem nearly invisible to most opponents she'd encountered, but Goku was not most, and she knew it, so she faked to her left before actually diving to the left. Her punch was met by Goku's index finger, and he grinned. "Too easy. C'mon, you're smart." He wiggled his finger teasingly.

Vejata returned to the other side of the room, moving from spot to spot in a chaotic pattern, and this time appeared behind him, sweeping her foot along the ground, level with Goku's ankles. But before her foot made contact, there was the man's ridiculous grin as he leaned over backwards, his forefinger resting comfortably against her arch. "That was tons better," Goku nodded. "But I could feel you coming even though my eyes couldn't track you so well."

"So? Are you going to tell me how to do it?"

"Hmm," Goku brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. "There's really no _telling_ how to do it. You just kind of have to pick up on it. Vegeta taught himself how to do it once he learned that we could do it."

"Are you sure you _want _to teach me?" she asked, more seriously.

"Why not?"

"It will be another skill in my arsenal, which I will use to kill you when we do reach New Vegeta."

"We've got a few more days, haven't we?"

She grinned. "What, you think you can talk me out of it in that time? Think again. I've slaughtered both the people who are the closest thing I ever could have had to family. What are you in comparison?"

"Even if I can't talk you out of it," Goku answered confidently, "I'll be on guard." His smirk turned into an almost crazed grin. "I am the only who will decide when I die. I have never been taken against my will."

Vejata raised her eyebrows, and unconsciously moved her arms to a defensive position at witnessing his expression. "And how many times have you died?"

"Twice."

"And you chose to, both times?"

"Yes."

"Shit," she narrowed her eyes. "What _are_ you people? These dragon balls have made you monsters."

"You're one to talk." It was hard to tell whether Goku had returned to his usual jovial mood, or was simply preparing to go mad.

"_I_ fear death," she growled. "And that is what makes us different: _I_ am sane."

Goku laughed, his sounds genuinely delighted but tinged with darkness. "Don't think any of my friends woulda ever called me sane in the first place." He tilted his head. "Figured maybe it was a Saiyajin thing, huh?"

"I doubt Prince Vegeta could have afforded such insanity."

"Mm," Goku glanced up thoughtfully. "He was always pretty reckless. Especially," and his eyes met with hers, "once he came to care about people."

"That was his mistake."

Goku shrugged and noted in an innocent voice, "Doubt you'd know, huh?" Her eyes narrowed. "Anyway! You want to learn how to do it, don't you? To sense ki, I mean."

She seemed reluctant to answer, so Goku proceeded. "Arright, goal's still to hit me. Anywhere this time. I won't defend myself." The corner of Vejata's mouth turned down as she waited for further explanation. "It won't be as easy as it sounds," he winked. And at that, his body seemed to split into two, four, eight—she stopped counting. Endless images of Goku danced around the perimeter of the gravity room, shoulder to shoulder. Her eyes darted from one to the other, trying to discern some difference.

"Close your eyes," Goku's voice rang through the room. "Looking will only confuse you."

"I know how to find you without closing my eyes," she asserted.

"Yeah? Then I'll just dodge. Shut your eyes. C'mon, play along or you won't learn a thing."

She positioned her limbs carefully, tail poised in the air behind her defensively, so that every angle was covered. Reluctantly, she let her lids slide over her eyes. "It's not helping one damn bit."

"Patience!"

"If we weren't in this room, I could hear where you are," she spoke through clenched teeth. "Damn acoustics."

"But we _are _in this room. And you're looking for my ki, not my voice. I can move a lot faster than it can, remember?"

She swore inwardly to herself for seeming such a fool. "All right." Several moments of silence ensued, and she did everything she could to find him. She felt the delicate play of the air currents across the hairs on her arms, and felt that this must have been related, somehow, to what she was supposed to be doing. Beneath the pulls of the air currents, she felt a different tingling, electric, magnetic. But it wasn't enough.

Goku saw the hint of a smirk appear on her face, and spoke quietly. "You've almost got it. Let me help you out." He unbridled his energy and let it soar until he was nearly drawn up to Super Saiyajin.

_WHAM._

He licked the blood from the corner of his mouth. "You learn quick, huh?"

She massaged her knuckles, leaping back from Goku carefully and opening her eyes. "Gotta. Learn or die."

"I made it easy that time. Let's try it again."

...

"Dende!" Bulma called out. "Wow, you're taller every time I see you."

He blushed, and then glanced over to Trunks and Goten. "What brings you all here? Wait…" the little green god grew somber. "I think I know."

"Do you know what happened to Vegeta?"

"Yes…"

But they were distracted by the _whoosh_ of a white cape nearby as Piccolo alit. He nodded to Bulma and eyed Trunks and Goten with suspicion. They always looked like they had been up to something. _Probably were_, he decided. Somehow, he felt his position as a mentor renewed when they were nearby—maybe, at least, a need to be a good role model for the troublemaking duo. "What's going on?" he questioned.

Bulma crossed her arms, frowning. "Damn Saiyajin don't believe in answering the phone, that's what."

Dende opened his mouth, but Trunks spoke out, "You shoulda heard her swearing at the com-screen!" he grinned. "It was hilarious."

But Piccolo's eyes were focused on Dende, who seemed to be searching in vain for some moisture in his dry mouth. "Need a glass of water, kid?" he asked. When no one laughed, he frowned. _I thought it was pretty funny…_

Bulma seemed to be following his track of mind and rolled her eyes. _Namek humor…_

Finally, Dende piped up, his voice desperate. "This isn't a time for jokes!" Immediately all eyes were on him. "Vegeta is dead. A-and if what I sensed was right…that female newcomer is the one who killed him."

...

"You're very close," Goku grinned. "For how little time we've spent on it, you're already pretty good."

Vejata spat off to the side at the consolation compliment. "I need some rest," she admitted.

"Me too," Goku decided. "You throw some pretty solid punches, you know?" he motioned to one she had landed across his cheek, now beginning to bruise. "You're awfully mean about it, too." He rubbed the bruise, flinching.

This time she smirked. _That_ was a compliment. "How long do you think it will take me to ascend?"

"Well," Goku frowned, crossing his arms. "Perfecting your ability to focus on ki is a big part of it, and a pretty big hurdle since you didn't know it already. Guess a bit longer than I thought before. There's another trick you need, too, that you're not ready for, yet."

Vejata raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"It won't do either of us any good for me to tell you more." He paused. "But tell me one thing. You can form ki blasts, right? Like this?" he lit up a benevolently glowing yellow sphere on his palm.

"Yes, of course," and a purple orb flickered into her own hand.

"Good," Goku nodded. "That helps. Hey…" he leaned in closer. "Is that Vegeta's _Gyarikku-Ho_? It's the same purple…"

"Is that what he calls it? Standard issue technique passed down the Vegeta line, to those who can learn it. I never thought to name it. What is that?" she motioned toward Goku's sphere.

"Ah, nothing, really," he shrugged.

"Nothing? You don't name your technique?"

"It's not a technique. Just a ball of ki."

"But surely you have an attack…"

"'Course. You wanna see?" She nodded. "Okay. Think you can block it?" Vejata stood up, nodding once more. "This'll be good practice. Hey! I'll fire my attack, you counter it with the _Gyarikku-Ho_, all right?"

"Can that be done?"

"Of course it can! Yeesh, and they say _I _grew up in the sticks!"

She grumbled, preparing her stance. Silently, she lit up the purple ball of ki, letting it charge in her hands.

"Ready? _Ka…me…ha…me…_" he grinned as the cyan orb gained power, and finally launched his arms forward to release it, "_HA!_"

Vejata let loose her attack at the same time, and for a few moments, they struggled—but only a few. Goku's beam overpowered hers and she was sent tumbling against the opposite wall. "I was tired," she mumbled, and Goku laughed good-naturedly.

"Sure, I know. Not half bad for half-asleep." He clapped his hand against her shoulder as he made his way out, and she shrunk away as if the feeling burned. "Let's get some rest."

Vejata glanced at the screen as she walked past the control center. _Only a few more days. If that. _Her eyes drifted over to Goku's already-sleeping form slung across the captain's chair. _I think I can go that long without killing him._ She closed her eyes, seeking out his ki signature, to see if she could. As he slept, it was less controlled, and she nearly caught it before it disappeared from her grasp once more. _Rest. Then try again._

_..._

"D-dead?" Bulma nearly fainted. But she recovered quickly, and upon seeing the fire in her eyes, the other occupants of her vicinity backed away. "Goddamn…fucking…" she rolled her sleeves up and raised her head to the sky. "You _bitch_! Dammit! How _dare _you!" She turned to her son and his friend. "Trunks! Goten! The second Goku gets back you tell him to bring you to her and then you _kill_ her for me!" She stomped over a few paces and screamed to the sky again, "Assuming that asshole doesn't kill Goku too!"

"B-Bulma," Dende's eyes were wide.

"She speaks like that when she's angry; get used to it," Piccolo answered, his eyes closed as he tried to block out her bellowing and wailing.

"A force to be reckoned with," the god muttered, and Piccolo nodded.

"Don't worry, we can bring Dad back!" Trunks did his best to comfort his mother while maintaining ten feet between them. "We can just go get that other set of dragon balls, can't we?"

"Maybe that's what my dad was doing," Goten suggested. "You said he went away, right?"

"Can you tell where he is?" Bulma pleaded to Piccolo.

"Hm," the Namekian thought for a moment. "He's still out there, but I can't find exactly where. It is in the same general direction as New Namek," he offered.

"Good," Bulma huffed. "If he doesn't make everything better and that chick is with him when he drags his sorry ass back, we're going to have some words!"

Dende leaned in to whisper to Piccolo. "Is this the human grieving process?"

Piccolo frowned a bit. "It's _her_ grieving process." He shrugged.

...

Vejata padded quietly across the floor, trying hard not to wake Goku. She knew little about suppressing her ki, but at least she could silence her movements and breathing. She held her eyes on his face, so thoroughly gentle as he slept. No matter how many encounters they'd had, how many hours she'd spent on the ship with him, she couldn't read him. One moment, he was carefree, in good spirits; the next, he seemed likely to make some wildly violent, unpredictable move. In between, she noticed occasionally baffled, always wanting looks. Vejata couldn't tell if they were directed toward her—_am I the first female Saiyajin he's met? It must be so_—or if all he could see in her was Vegeta.

Each time the prince was mentioned, it was with utmost fondness, some sort of reverence or holy camaraderie. Did Vegeta return these sentiments? He had seemed so resentful. But then, that had to be his nature. Well, perhaps she would find out for certain when—

She shook the thought from her head. _No, I won't let that happen._ Her mouth twitched as her eyes refocused on Goku. He seemed nice enough, but each time he challenged her in the gravity room, he was a hungry warrior. _He's training me just to fight me,_ she remembered. _Bizarre._ Vegeta had treated him as if he were of a fairly low class; was this how all the low-class Saiyajin acted? None had been saved from Planet Vegeta's destruction; she had no way to know from experience and had never asked anyone else.

Even as Goku dozed, power rippled from his form. _Could he really be lower class? And so strong? _It would explain Vegeta's apparent bitterness, perhaps. _He must have been rather weak at birth, if his first mission was but to destroy the humans. If so…he's grown…unbelievably…_ Goku's breaths were deep, the air nearly echoing through the space in his lungs. Without warning, her gut stung as if a hot iron had been dropped into it, and she turned away lest he wake to see her weakness. It was sickness, hatred, lined in glass, lithe and living lizards, _dammit, push it back_, lust, precipitously placed, spiked, stupid…

"Vegeta? You don't look well…" Goku mumbled. "Vegeta?"

Vejata glanced back, but swiveled her head away quickly. "Kakarrot," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Damn, you sound weird, Vegeta. C'mere." In his sleepiness, his voice was deeper than usual.

"Shut up, Kakarrotto!" she spat, whipping back around to face him.

"Y're goin' nuts," he answered, apparently believing this to be reassuring. He swung his legs to the ground. "Y'haven't let your ki spin 'round like that since Babidi possessed you."

She hardly even registered the strange comment in her state. "Don't make me kill you early…_shut_…_up_…"

"'Geta. Settle down." Goku stood, and then began lumbering across the room, eyes still half-closed. Vejata froze in place as he approached, her stomach tumbling, threatening to jump from her throat with every step he took. She had never been so disgusted with herself. "You're so tense, Vegeta. Shh," he leaned close, sour nighttime breath stinging her nose. Still, she quivered at hearing her real name. His silence and warmth drew her up, standing on her toes, to reach him, and as she got closer, in pulses her gut threatened to explode from her mouth.

As they were about to brush together, Goku's eyes snapped open. "V…Vejata…?" he backed up, shaking. "Sorry…I was…asleep…I thought…"

She spun on her heel to dash to the washroom, clutching her hand over her mouth.

"I thought…Vegeta…" he murmured, now to himself. He trembled as he fell back into the chair. "D-don't…say anything…!" he called out weakly. Goku's ears picked up the sounds of her retching, and he knew she wouldn't speak a word of it. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

...

They entered the gravity room together, with strained silence between them. Goku had opened his mouth once or twice, but each time thought better of it and remained silent. Vejata held her gaze away. She wouldn't back down from this session—but the last thing she wanted to do was confront whatever feeling she had felt earlier. After years of icing herself over, she couldn't place it, couldn't even tell if it was hot or cold. She had felt burning before, but perhaps it was just so cold it felt hot…

Finally, Goku did speak. "Let's put that all behind us and have a good fight. Okay?" He began stretching out. "Last thing we want is to be distracted. Whatever's on your mind, just let it disappear."

She closed her eyes, and genuinely wished she could do as he had asked. As she took deep breaths of the air in the room, the scent of her own burnt hair from Goku's attack the day before, it was easier to push it back. _I'll be home…soon…_ Her eyes slowly slid open. "You're right. I'm ready."

They sprung apart from each other, Vejata's breathing labored from effort. Concern played across Goku's facial features. "Don't you ever fight for pleasure?"

"What?" her eyes widened.

"Every move you've made since we've started, it's like you're trying to kill me as efficiently as you can, and you're only holding back 'cause of our promise."

"Why fight, if not to kill?"

Goku's brows furrowed in confusion. "For fun, of course! Don't you ever have fun while you're fighting?"

"Only when my opponent is seeing his end."

"You don't like the challenge? That excitement running through your veins?"

This time, she was the one to narrow her eyes in confusion.

"Hell! I never thought I'd have to say this to anyone so like Vegeta, but for goodness' sakes, _fight like a Saiyajin_!"

"I…don't know what you're saying."

"Come on, from what I understand all Saiyajin live for battle!" He paused. "For _battle,_ not just to kill."

"All Saiyajin kill. It is a rite of passage."

"But don't tell me you just do it, y'know, _just like that_, without a fight? Don't you want a challenge?"

"I want to live. Obviously you can afford these games, and I cannot."

"You can now. I'm not killing you." He fell back into a fighting stance. "It's tough to fight someone who's not having fun!" His bare toes curled against the ground, gripping it, as he waited for her to come at him. "Vegeta learned it the hard way. I'm just trying to save you some time. You should fight for the joy of fighting."

"Perhaps what you say is true," her tail twitched. "Perhaps you are even more Saiyajin than Prince Vegeta or I."

Goku grinned. "Maybe. Who knows." He lifted his knee slightly and wiggled his toes. "Hey, maybe getting barefoot will help you loosen up."

She frowned. "What a hick."

The man shrugged, placing his foot back on the ground and resuming his stance. "Well? Let's go."

Vejata sent Goku flying across the room with a kick, and paused. "What is it?" _He let his guard down just like that._

"I think I hear something buzzing out front," Goku motioned to his ears. "Like at the controls."

She smirked. "We must be there."

"Yeah!" Goku grinned. "Wow, I can't wait!" He leapt out of the room, leaving Vejata to dial down the gravity and shut off the lights. She exited the room with swagger, and found Goku blinking disbelievingly as he stared out the small, round window. "H-hey…Vejata…m-maybe you shouldn't…"

The woman strode up to stand next to him and observe what he could see. Her chest pounded, once, twice, and she felt her muscles seizing and twisting. "N-no."

Goku turned to face her, his eyes consoling, and he reached for her shoulders. She shoved past him to clutch either side of the window's frame, clenching her teeth. Her eyes glazed over. "No…"

She felt Goku's hand on her shoulder, and he spoke softly. "Sorry…I'm sorry for your loss."

Her forehead slammed against the window as she shut her eyes tightly to block out the vision.

Debris.

Her planet was gone.


	8. 08

"Trunks, are you okay?" Goten paced over to his friend as his feet dangled over the edge of the Lookout.

"What do you think, Goten?" he snapped, but then his features softened. "Sorry."

"It's okay, we can bring him back. Maybe my dad is even doing it right now." He took a seat next to Trunks. "Your mom says that we should wait for that first, 'cause it would take us a while to get there if we left now."

"Why didn't your stupid dad just teleport instead of taking a ship?"

"Dunno."

"I can't believe that one lady killed him. If I'd have known she was gonna…"

"Aw, Trunks, I don't think anyone knew. Your dad's real smart, and even he didn't know!"

"I guess," Trunks dropped a pebble from the ledge, and from their height it was difficult to tell if it would ever reach the ground. "I just want to go home."

"Yeah, but this way Mister Piccolo can tell us if he senses anything." Goten rested his head on his palm. "Anyway, I bet my mom is goin' crazy. I don't wanna be there for that."

The deepness of Trunks' frown lessened and he let out a small laugh. "Guess you're right. As for my mom…" they both turned back to watch Bulma as she screamed at Piccolo, apparently now blaming him for the entire incident, and broke into grins.

...

"Who would have done such a thing…?" Goku pondered.

"You mean your precious ability to sense ki didn't reveal this to you? Didn't you feel a blast? Anything?" she nearly literally tore into him.

"N-no, I mean, I wasn't really paying attention…"

"Kakarrot!" and this time she physically attacked him, charging at him and pinning him against the wall. "I promised to wait until we got to my home before I would kill you," she spoke through clenched teeth. "We're here, and if you cannot help me, I will stay true to my promise and end you here and now."

"You won't," Goku asserted. "Because I _can _help you."

She snarled and brought her face closer to his, pressing him harder against the wall with one gloved hand clutching the collar of his gi. "You'd best be sure of that. If you fail to hold to this, I will make sure there is _no one_ to _wish _your sorry ass back."

"Doubtful. I have lots of friends," Goku answered, smugly.

"I can see why—no one sees you for the manipulative bastard you are."

"You know," Goku's expression turned to a grin of malice, "Now that I'm more awake, I can say you are certainly uglier than Vegeta." Seeing her shock and the slightest hint of a humiliated flush, he leaned closer. "Now that the lights are on, you can tell me, do I look more handsome in the dark, or with a little lighting?"

"Why are you _doing_ this to me?" she released him in a flurry, whipping around so that he could not see her shame.

"My old master taught me an important lesson when I was young," Goku spoke quietly. "No matter how good you are at fighting, there's always someone better out there. Face it. You're not a god, and you never will be. You need to learn now. You have no right to act the way you have been."

"And you—is there someone better than _you_ out there?" She turned just enough to glimpse his face. "You haven't been the spitting image of humility. Are _you_ the best there is?"

"I have spent nights awake hoping not."

"And if you are killed from your foolishness, and your friends, your home destroyed?"

"Without some challenge…I'll wither away." He seemed distinctly frightened with the prospect.

"So you would have them die."

"I've never let them down before. See how _my_ planet is still intact."

She roared, and through sparks and golden flashes sent a volley of punches against Goku's jaw. When she pulled away to breathe, he smiled. "See? You're awfully close."

She eyed him warily. "You said all that—to egg me on—for _that_?" Vejata stared at her fingers, as if they could spontaneously glow golden again at any moment. "Were you lying?"

Goku glanced to the side guiltily, shrugging.

"Did I…ascend?"

"No." He returned his gaze to her. "But almost." Hesitantly, Goku smiled again. "Wasn't that cool? With some work, you'll be there. I knew you could. And now you know the secret."

She threw a glance out the window. "Kakarrot. Tell me you will never make such implications again."

"What?" he blinked, baffled.

"That I am an unfit ruler. That I am so utterly _incapable._"

"I'll try," Goku laughed, and was met with a glare. "I, I can't make promises since sometimes I don't even know when I accidentally say something bad."

"You're too dense to be a god," she muttered under her breath. "Kakarrot, can you tell who did this?" she motioned to the remains of New Vegeta.

"I'll look." He focused, brows furrowed deeply, for a few moments before opening his eyes again. "There's definitely something strange going on over there," and he nodded to his right, his gaze fixed slightly above the ship's horizon. "Yeah. If we go in that direction, maybe I can know for sure." He seemed on-edge, but excited.

"Maybe your prayers for a stronger enemy have been answered."

Goku shrugged. "Any ol' guy can blow up a planet. Who knows." But the eagerness in his eyes spoke volumes more about what he wished, what he wanted to find. He darted over to the controls, scratching his head before poking at a few buttons.

"Do you really know how to use this?"

"N-not really. We had it on autopilot before, you know?"

"Allow me," she pushed him out of the way. "I know this region better than you, anyway."

"I wonder if I should just ask Kaio about it?" Goku asked himself aloud, but he shrugged the idea off. "Nah, he probably wasn't paying attention anyway. Hey, and even if they're weak I'll bet you wanna, y'know, get revenge. You know that we can wish everything back, right?"

"Y-you can? These dragon balls are that powerful?"

"Well, when we fought Buu he killed everyone and the Earth blew up. But, we got everything back just the way it was."

"Your planet was blown up?" she raised her eyebrows, and her eyes glimmered her realization of his hypocrisy. "You let that happen?"

Goku laughed. "I guess so. There was no stopping it."

Vejata glanced at the ceiling. "Shit. Seems every place a Saiyajin goes, it's sure to be destroyed." She seemed in lighter spirits with the knowledge that her dominion could be restored, so Goku laughed at the comment.

"Remind me not to take a vacation anytime soon."

She smirked. "Well, we're all set to head in that direction." Her brows drew together slightly as she grew more serious. "I don't want to get too close, just in case, so tell me when we're close enough for you to know more about it."

"You know, you can try to sense 'im too. It would be good practice."

Vejata nodded, and seemed to concentrate for a few moments. Finally she spoke up. "I can't feel a thing."

"Maybe you will once we get closer." Goku paced back and forth, keeping his eyes in the direction of the anomaly he'd sensed. "So you really care about your planet, huh?"

"Of course I do. I was raised to rule it."

"So, are the people there nice?"

She laughed. "The people there are Saiyajin."

Goku laughed a bit. "Okay. Well…you must like them."

Vejata shrugged. "They are my subjects."

"Did you have any really good friends there?"

She shrugged again, but her expression seemed to darken. "I can't afford to trust anyone that much."

"You seem like you trust me," Goku suggested. "You know I could kill you any ol' time, but your defenses haven't been raised constantly."

"You have no reason to kill me."

"I don't?"

"Please," she sighed. "From the start I've gotten the distinct impression that you would avoid any such responsibilities as ruling a planet."

"Always have, always will." Goku grinned, stretching his hands behind his head. "You really didn't have any friends? Not even when you were little?"

"Even when I was very young, I was being trained to take over the planet. Would King Vegeta have allowed me such luxuries?" She seemed deep in thought, eyes downcast.

"Oh," Goku was silent, thinking.

"Of course," she continued, glancing up at Goku, "they would have much preferred a male heir. I was strong, but when I failed to exceed King Vegeta's expectations, doubt swelled up. And when word of Freeza's defeat reached us—defeat at the hands of a Saiyajin, what's more—they began to believe that I simply could not reach what Vegeta surely had." Vejata looked back down at herself. "Nearly overnight I went from being the next ruler of the Saiyajin to the top candidate to mother a son who might surpass me, if Prince Vegeta could not be found."

Goku seemed surprised. "So…they didn't want you to rule anymore?"

She inclined her head. "Yes. I knew then that King Vegeta had to meet his end. I had to ascend to power immediately, before any more…" she trailed off, clenching her fists. "So I killed him."

"Wow…"

"It took some time to find Prince Vegeta. But I couldn't risk anyone else discovering that he was still alive."

"Well," Goku crossed his arms. "I don't think Vegeta would try to take your spot. I don't think he really wants to rule anymore. Y'know, he's pretty happy on Earth."

"I got that impression."

"So what're you worried about?"

"They would demand he kill me to take the throne, or do it themselves. I'm strong, but I can't take out hundreds of elites if they attack me all at once."

"I think you could now," Goku winked. "And especially once you finally become a Super Saiyajin.

She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you suggesting I kill a hundred of my best men to prove a point?"

"Wow, that makes it sound really bad," he scratched his head. "I guess there's probably another way to do it."

Vejata smirked, but her smirk quickly faded as her eyes snapped to one side. "I…I think I sensed something!"

Goku nodded. "We're getting closer." He grinned. "Feels like it could be someone pretty strong! Maybe you'd better let me handle him!"

"We'll see." She eyed the ship's screen, observing the area toward which they were headed, where she had felt the being's presence. Where other planets were marked, they passed nothing but dust. "Kakarrot, my home was not the only one destroyed."

"I can definitely tell more about it now," Goku closed his eyes, brows furrowing in concentration. "Feels really…weird. Kind of familiar, but there's something off."

"Familiar?"

"Yeah. Definitely. But something is making it feel…a lot different than it should, so I can't quite place it."

"Is it strong?"

Goku nodded, smiling wide. "Yeah. I think it could be a fun fight." He whipped around to face Vejata. "I'm so glad we didn't teleport! Who would have thought I'd find an opponent way out here, just waiting?"

"You don't know—" Vejata started, but Goku was already hopping up and down on alternating feet. "Well, we're getting close. I'm going to stop the ship here. Whoever this is doesn't seem to have a problem with…destroying large vessels…so I'd rather we not be seen."

"Okay," Goku nodded.

"Can you pinpoint it? It looks like this ship is equipped with fairly high-quality cameras, so if you can tell me just where it is, we can try to see what it is first. I can feel it, very much now—but not precisely where it is."

"Hm," Goku concentrated. "It's such a big power, but it feels kind of cloudy…kind of _everywhere._" His eyes flicked from place to place until they settled on one point. He tapped his finger against the screen with the map. "Right about there, I think."

Vejata struggled with the controls for a moment before successfully manipulating the cameras until they settled against a silhouette. She sucked air in and her eyes grew wide.

"Looks really familiar, too," Goku narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the image. "Is that a tail?" He straightened his back again, hopping up and down. "Whatever that thing is, it sure feels strong! I'm ready!"

But Vejata did not remove her eyes from the screen. She studied it for several moments more, and thoughts seemed to spin through wildly churning cogs in her mind. "There's a reason it feels familiar, Kakarrot…"

But he didn't seem to notice the comment, stretching his legs and popping his joints eagerly.

"Kakarrot, you can't do this alone. We need to get Vegeta."

"I can do it," Goku smirked. "Don't act like you even understand what I'm capable of. You can hardly sense its power—you can't possibly compare it against me!"

"No—no, Kakarrot! It doesn't matter! I know—"

He raised his fingers to his forehead and disappeared.

Vejata watched as he reappeared on the screen before her. The figure seemed to be surprised at his appearance, but was quick to attack. Almost immediately, she could see a glow burst from Goku—then the other figure. They exchanged blows for entire minutes, apparently perfectly matched.

_Please, Kakarrot—either you have something else up your sleeve, or you need to give up now!_

After some time, Goku ascended twice more, hair exploding past his torso. Vejata struggled to follow their movements, but the camera captured them too slowly now, and she could only see them when they paused. Goku seemed to have the upper hand, often stopping, poised above the other body. With the resolution available, she couldn't see their faces, but she imagined Goku's maniacal grin as he slammed his opponent into the ground time after time.

_If only that were enough…_

They were so strong now that she could sense both of them individually—Goku's ki flowing outward in every direction and the ominous mist that was his opponent. And then she felt it, as Goku once more landed a substantial blow upon the other figure—two, three, four, five pinpricks against her skin. Her eyes widened, and she knew that she could do nothing. "Fuck—" she muttered to herself, laying hard on the ship's controls to bring it in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. She poised herself carefully, forefingers rested against her head, for the moment she would come into range, keeping half of her attention on the battle that raged behind her.

"Goddammit," she swore, "Kakarrot…"

He flickered from her senses. Son Goku was dead.


	9. 09

Note: Hello, anyone who reads this story! I was hoping that at this point I could persuade you to leave a very brief comment after reading this chapter. I just want to know how many people are actually reading this.

Doesn't have to be anything meaningful, maybe just a, "Hey! I'm reading your story! Write faster!" (Or, on the other side of the coin, "Hey! I hate your story! Don't ask why I'm still reading it!")

Thanks—I appreciate it more than you could know!

I'm not usually one for pre-chapter/post-chapter notes, so I'll probably leave you alone for a while, unless I have good reason not to.

Now, on with the chapter!

...

"Do you really think it's necessary?" Bulma glanced toward Piccolo.

He seemed to shrug. "I doubt it, but it never hurts to be prepared. Just in case there's a reason this is taking Son so long…"

"Have you felt anything of him?" Bulma questioned. "Like if he's any closer to New Namek?"

"He's so distant; to determine his distance or small changes in position is nearly impossible, even for me." Piccolo drew in a breath and closed his eyes as he seemed to seek the man out. His brows furrowed. "Son's power was elevated earlier, but it's disappeared again. Perhaps he's moved so far away that I can't find him anymore…"

"As long as that chick hasn't killed him," Bulma crossed her arms, huffing.

"I doubt it."

"Fu…sion…_HA!_" A bright light burst forth and Bulma was nearly whipped back against the wall as Trunks and Goten merged into Gotenks.

"Yeah!" the boy grinned, pumping a fist in the air. "Still got it!"

"Okay," Piccolo stepped toward him. "Good. But can you still ascend to the third level?" As he finished speaking, he almost regretted saying it. Power burst forth from Gotenks at such a rate that Piccolo had to leap to grab Bulma and Dende from being blown off the platform.

...

"There it is!" she knitted her brows and focused, too concerned to so much as smirk over her good fortune. Leaving the ship to rocket through space empty, she disappeared.

...

"Yeah," Gotenks grinned. "More powerful than ever!" Sparks danced around his elongated hair and he threw a few punches through the air. He continued with a volley of kicks, until one landed solidly against something else. "What?" he blinked. The object had gone soaring off across the sky, and Piccolo swore to himself, bursting off the platform to catch it.

"What was that?" Bulma blinked. "I didn't see a thing…I thought I heard something though."

Gotenks scratched his head. "Probably just a stupid bird."

"You mean you didn't see it?"

"Well…no," he admitted. As he glanced off in Piccolo's direction, he shrugged, and dissolved back into Trunks and Goten.

"I thought that was supposed to last half an hour?" Bulma blinked.

"Oh, we were powered up really really high," Goten explained.

"Yeah, it kind of sucks up the fusion when we're level three, especially when we're pushing it so much," Trunks clarified.

Bulma nodded, but she was distracted by Piccolo's returning form. He seemed to have something dangling under one arm. He shot a glare at Trunks and Goten.

"I-it was a person?" Goten stuttered.

"Dad?" Trunks stepped forward, trying to examine the body.

"No," Piccolo set it down. "Your father is most definitely dead, even if we can't find him."

"Oh. It's _her_," he noticed with closer inspection.

"How did she get here?" Bulma asked, too fazed to be angry to see her.

"Did Son teleport them back?" Piccolo wondered aloud. "I don't feel his presence." He glanced back at the woman's unconscious form. "If you hadn't knocked her out, we could ask her!" he snapped at the boys, who scratched their heads guiltily in unison.

"I-I can heal her," Dende suggested. "I think she will come to if I do that."

Finally, as Piccolo nodded and glanced toward Bulma to gauge her reaction, Bulma seemed to realize just who was before her. "Murderer!" she screamed at the body, and gave it a good kick before crossing her arms and blowing a raspberry as she moved to make room for Dende. "Joke's on you! We're going to get Vegeta back anyway!"

"Nn," the woman groaned as Dende's healing light enveloped her. As the young Namekian pulled his hands back, she sat up. "The hell was that?"

"Um, we kicked you," Goten answered cautiously. "S-sorry."

"I'm glad," Trunks crossed his arms, closing his eyes and pointing his nose up. "You deserve it, for what you did to my dad."

She slowly stood, and balled her fists, growling in frustration. "I can't believe it…"

"Hey!" Piccolo demanded her attention. "Where's Son Goku?"

Her eyes shut tightly. "Dead."

He let loose a roar, shooting his arm out to grasp her throat. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she struggled against Piccolo, to no avail.

"What happened to him? What are you doing here?"

"I…need…" she rasped out, but for the tight grip around her she could hardly speak. Piccolo released her, but his gaze remained sharp and watchful, daring her to do anything dangerous. She took in a few deep breaths and glanced to the ground. "Kakarrot and Vegeta. We need to wish them back. Now. But I don't know anything about these dragon balls but that they are found on a place called New Namek." She glanced up toward Piccolo. "And if I'm not mistaken…_you_ are a Namekian?"

He frowned. "Just because I'm Namekian doesn't mean I can get you to New Namek. And," his voice shifted to an accusatory tone, "I know why_ we_ need to wish back Son Goku and Vegeta. But why do _you_?" Piccolo narrowed his eyes. "We know you killed Vegeta. For all we know, you killed Son too."

"Didn't get the chance," she replied, once more glancing down. Her voice was tinged with regret, although even she didn't know if it was regret that she hadn't killed him, or that she hadn't really wanted to.

"Was it a bad guy?" Goten suggested. "Was my dad fighting a bad guy?"

She inclined her head toward the child. "Yes. Someone who has been destroying many planets, including my own." She stopped briefly, imagining her world—figuratively and literally—as it burst into dust. "You are Kakarrot's son?"

Goten nodded. "Yeah, and that's Trunks. His dad is Mister Vegeta, y'know, the guy you look like. Oh yeah, and I have a big brother, Gohan. Hey! We don't even know your name."

"My name is Vegeta," she stated simply, and then, after some hesitation, added, "Kakarrot has been referring to me as 'Vejata'—to differentiate between Prince Vegeta and myself, to reduce confusion in conversation."

Finally, Bulma spoke. "We can take care of wishing back Goku and Vegeta ourselves," her voice was icy. "Leave."

"You don't understand," and Vejata's reply was equally icy. "You don't know what you're facing." She paced up to Bulma, looking her squarely in the eye, challenging her to protest. "I tried to stop Kakarrot. I told him that we needed to wish Vegeta back first. He didn't listen. Now he's dead."

"You knew that you needed Vegeta as well even before Son died?" Piccolo quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"You are familiar with this foe?"

She glanced down at her hands. "Yes and no."

...

"You too?"

Goku grinned. "Vegeta! I knew Enma would let you wait here!"

"Well, it's been boring as hell. What's going on? Did that bitch kill you too?"

"I'll tell you all about it, but just a second." Goku leapt up on to Enma's desk. "Hey! Lord Enma! You remember me, right?" he winked.

"Son Goku, what are you doing dead again?"

"Well, thassa thing, I need to show Vegeta what we're up against! I know we're gonna get wished back, but…"

"Don't tell me the universe is in danger again." He rolled his eyes. "All right, Son. I'm hesitant about letting Vegeta into Heaven—it'd set a dangerous precedent, you know—but as you're aware there's a viewing screen to the living world in Hell that I might be willing to fire up for just such an occasion. You'll have to go with him. You don't mind, do you?"

"Hangin' out in Hell? Nah! It could even be fun!"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, you know the way. If you can vouch for Vegeta, I'll let him keep his body for now."

"Oh, yeah," Goku nodded vigorously. "He hasn't done anything bad for a really long time."

Enma nodded, but as he glanced over his papers, he lowered his eyebrows in confusion. "This says that not too long ago Vegeta killed…Vegeta…wait…" he scratched his head.

"Oh, that was Vegeta's clone; she was the one who killed Vegeta here," Goku explained.

"It also says that Vegeta wiped out a number of planets…several years ago…"

"That was probably her too…"

"As well as a fair few within the past two days."

Goku's eyes widened, and a realization seemed to strike him over the head. "Oh. …_Oh._"

...

Vejata glanced back up, first toward Piccolo, and then to Bulma. She fixed her eyes on Bulma and asked through gritted teeth, "You are a scientist, are you not?"

Bulma nodded, tilting her chin upward confidently.

"Good," she responded, though she sounded none too happy, "…between you and the Namekian, we may be able to devise a solution." She breathed in deeply, biding time as she thought. "I do not believe this foe can be defeated by conventional means."

"We're really good at beating up bad guys," Goten pointed out, tugging at Vejata's pants leg. She brushed him away, and he pouted. "I promise, we are." Trunks nodded vigorously.

"Where did that warrior go, who hit me as I appeared?" Vejata directed her question toward Piccolo. "Surely it was neither of these boys?"

"It was!" Trunks seemed offended. "It was us! We fused!"

"Yeah, with this special dance!"

"It…makes two people into one warrior?" she guessed, incredulous.

"Yes. Son learned it in the afterlife," Piccolo explained. "But Goten, Trunks—if what she says is true, this thing defeated Son. You may be very near him in strength, but since neither of you has the kind of fighting experience he has, Gotenks would be of little use." He turned back to Vejata. "But still I am not sure if we should believe you. Tell us more about this…villain."

...

"And then, I felt this huge power!" Goku grinned as he and Vegeta paced out the door, toward Snake Way. "It was really exciting. Vejata said I shouldn't go, seemed like she knew something. But hey! I figured she didn't really know how strong I am, not _really_, y'know?" Vegeta nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but Goku continued, "So I just teleported over there! And I thought, wow, this guy looks really familiar!" He seemed thoughtful and scratched his chin as they paced down the pathway. "I guess I figured out why now. I bet that's what she was tryin' to tell me. Anyway, I just _knew _he was the guy who blew up the planet…an' he didn't seem the least bit sorry about it, and I was so happy 'cause he seemed really strong…so we just started fighting! I was gonna beat 'im, too. But then five more things came at me…" he paused. "I really didn't get a good look at 'em, before they did me in. But they all felt the same. Just the same as the first one!"

"Who was it?" Vegeta finally managed to speak. They leapt off the pathway, down into the depths of Hell.

"Get this—it was six of _you_!"

..

"I have no doubt that they are improved versions," Vejata finished. "The being that cloned me must have continued its work long after the Saiyajin left—it knew it would always be under attack by someone, and what a perfect defense. I suspect…that these clones destroyed the planet housing this being once they became bored, too powerful for their own good."

"Genetically modified for perfection…" Bulma muttered.

"The being must have unlocked their powers in any way it could. I noticed, however, that the one Kakarrot was fighting did not ascend to the third level."

"We'll just wish Goku and Vegeta back, and tell them to fuse!" Bulma seemed confident. Piccolo nodded.

"Likely on our way we will need to pass through their territory," Vejata seemed worried. "I cannot teleport to New Namek, since I've not met anyone there. We'll need to take a ship."

"What happened to the one you took before?" Bulma frowned.

"I abandoned it, to get here faster," Vejata challenged Bulma to protest against her actions. "I assume you have more."

"Not just _ready and waiting_!" Bulma fumed. "Moron! They need to be stocked, checked…"

Vejata shot her a glare. "Well then, you'd best get to work."

"_You're_ not giving the orders around here!" Bulma prodded her, forefinger nudging Vejata's breastplate at every syllable. "You'd better figure out a way to get around these _freaks_ so we can get to the dragon balls!" she spat, turning on her heel. "Trunks! Goten! Take me back home!"

"Not so fast," Piccolo stepped in front of her. "We need to take a couple of important precautionary measures."

"Oh?" the anger lingered in her voice, although it was clear that all the frustration was still directed toward Vejata.

"If we encounter these beings on our way through space, I think we can count on Gotenks to provide substantial defense," Piccolo started, and Trunks and Goten grinned proudly. "But if we plan on blazing ahead of Gotenks while he fends them off, he will need a way to reach us again. Vejata, you will need to teach these boys the Instantaneous Movement technique."

"I'm…I'm not sure I can," Vejata glanced to the side guilty. "I've only just learned how to sense ki. The move that I use is one that I was born with, so far as I know."

"Teach them what you can," was all Piccolo could say.

"My daddy tried telling me about it," Goten volunteered. "Maybe if I can remember his advice, it would help?"

Piccolo smirked. "Yes. Perfect. But Trunks, Goten—you need to teach a technique as well." At this, Goten and Trunks seemed to perk up, and Vejata quirked an eyebrow. Bulma crossed her arms impatiently. "Vejata needs to learn the fusion dance."

The Saiyajin gaped at the Namekian. "You mean for me to fuse with one of these boys? But why?"

"No, no—you couldn't do that anyway; your body types are likely too different," Piccolo shook his head, and turned his gaze to Bulma. "If something goes wrong with the ship—which, if I'm not mistaken, no one knows more about than you—we need someone who can take a physical blow and remain well enough to assess damage and make repairs, in case something happens in battle." His teeth gleamed as he grinned at his brilliance. "Vejata and Bulma will learn to fuse."

The two glared at each other murderously.

Trunks and Goten exchanged glances and gulped.


	10. 10

Goku grinned as he deflected a barrage of punches and kicks. "Guys, guys! Calm down! Vegeta and I just came to peek in on what's going on at home, so to speak." He waved cheerily to Cell, who sat distance away. "Hey! Long time no see!" Goku shrugged toward the attacking force, as if asking the green humanoid why he wasn't joining in on the one-sided brawl.

"Son Goku, you surpassed my abilities long ago."

"You mind if Vegeta and I sit there?" Goku asked, firing a final blast against the opposition, and no one came at him again.

Cell stood up and walked away without another word.

"Well, you certainly cleaned that up quickly," Vegeta crossed his arms and glanced toward Goku. "I'm surprised they haven't offered you a job as a god around here."

Goku grinned and scratched the back of his head. "Uh…"

"Oh, don't tell me. They have, haven't they?"

"I dunno…" Goku turned around, apparently distracted. "Hey! Look!"

"The screen is this way, moron."

"No, no, there's your dad! Right? He has to be! He looks just like you!"

As if he had heard Goku from such a distance, King Vegeta entered with a dramatically billowing cape and proud swagger. He seemed to become more hesitant as he approached, eventually regarding his son with a small, almost questioning nod. "Vegeta."

"F-Father…!"

"Hey King Vegeta, you'll never guess who killed Vegeta not too long ago!"

He quirked an eyebrow at Goku, perplexed. "Do I…know you?"

"No. I'm Son Goku!"

"Kakarrot," Vegeta clarified, and opened his mouth to continue to speak, but found everything that he wanted to say caught in his throat.

"Ah, I _thought_ he looked like a Saiyajin."

"So you don't have a guess?" Goku piped up again. "Your son died the other day—just the same way you did!"

Vegeta gaped at Goku, and then scrambled to pull him back. "Please, excuse him, he suffered some brain damage at a young age…of course I wasn't killed by Freeza…er, not _this _time…Kakarrot, what are you thinking…"

But King Vegeta unconsciously raised his hand and traced a few fingers along his throat, his gaze stretching over Vegeta's shoulder into the past.

"Father?" Vegeta found himself doing the same thing, remembering his body back on Earth.

"She found you, did she? Well, I knew my death was coming…but I was sure you were stronger than she…"

"I _am_!" Vegeta protested immediately. "But…" he narrowed his eyes and shifted his focus to Goku. "You've obviously left _something_ out of your story…Kakarrot, what didn't you tell me?"

Goku laughed. "They were all details, I dunno…I just skipped to the exciting bits…"

The king turned to Vegeta, grasping for words. "My son…if I had known you would live…"

"Don't apologize!" Goku clapped a hand against his back, and King Vegeta froze in place. "We'll be back to life soon enough! Plus I know Vejata's gonna become a great friend!"

He blinked, and lowered his eyebrows to try to mask his confusion, but all were distracted as Hell's biggest TV screen flickered to life.

"It's like this," a voice washed across the land, fuzzy at first. "You put your arms this way…"

…

"…And then as you step to the side like this," Trunks continued before huffing and blowing his bangs out of his face. "Y'know what, Goten, let's just show 'em!"

"Watch carefully," Bulma nearly seethed. "I've seen this before. If you fuck it up we'll come out ugly as hell."

"Take your own advice," Vejata spat. "Unlike you, I possess the keen, observant eye of the warrior."

Piccolo rolled his eyes and turned to Dende. "I don't know if this is ever going to work, if those two keep going at each other's throats like that…" Dende laughed nervously.

"Okay," Goten attempted to smile at the two women as they glared daggers at one another. "Umm…Miss Vejata, since Miss Bulma can't adjust her ki, you'll have to practice matching her…"

"Oh, great," Bulma raised her voice overdramatically. "Because she just told us that she's _so_ experienced with that kind of stuff…"

"Right, and _you're_ one to talk, you—"

"Cut it out!" Piccolo suddenly stepped in between the two. "Vejata, you know what we're dealing with and if it's as serious as you say, you need to start acting the part. Bulma…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say and then afraid to let anything more leave his mouth as he evaluated her expression. Blushing slightly at the ineffectiveness of his speech, he strode away and grumbled to himself.

Vejata approached him quietly, holding a gaze against Bulma. She didn't shift her focus to Piccolo until she was standing toe to toe with him. Swearing quietly at the height difference, she drifted up until she was at his eye level. Motioning that they should turn away from the others, she spoke softly. "I do need more time to learn about being aware of my and others' ki," she admitted. "I don't know if I can do what you have asked in time for us to stop these things before they reach this very planet. I don't know their capabilities; they may have this place pinpointed at this instant. For all I know, they too could teleport here."

Piccolo inclined his head and furrowed his brow. "I see…"

"Sorry," Dende piped up, stepping up to the two, "I, um, couldn't help overhearing," his face reddened as he motioned to his ears, "and I think I have a solution." He shrugged toward the Lookout's main building, and as Piccolo opened his mouth, Dende spoke again, "I asked Mr. Popo if he could fix it. Surely enough…"

Piccolo stole a sidelong glance through a window at the genie, who appeared to be ambling about in the kitchen and humming to himself.

"Sorry to interrupt your secret meeting," Bulma shoved past Vejata to stare up at Piccolo, "but didn't you say that this was important? Because if it's not, I'm going _home_."

Piccolo ignoring Bulma's comment as his eyes met Vejata's. "Will you need someone to coach or assist you in your training?"

"I need no one."

"Do you expect it will take you much longer?"

"I was quickly catching on. Merely a bit of time for introspection may be key at this point."

"All right," and Piccolo finally turned to Bulma. "Stay right here. This shouldn't take long. Vejata is going to hone her skills in the Room of Spirit and Time…and _then_ you will practice the fusion."

…

"Whoa," Goku grinned. "I didn't know they fixed it! Hey, Vegeta…" but he trailed off as he noticed the prince wasn't paying any attention to him. Instead, Vegeta held his eyes on the screen thoughtfully as he watched Vejata jam her middle finger up in the air at Bulma before turning on her heel to follow Piccolo.

"Is there any way to see our alleged opponents, Kakarrot?" he finally spoke.

"Hm," Goku scratched his head, and he disappeared for a moment, rummaging through something that sat behind the giant screen. He slid back up to Vegeta's side holding a novelty giant remote, grinning ear to ear.

Vegeta smacked his hand against his forehead. "You make life a living hell, Kakarrot."

"Oh, Vegeta!" Goku guffawed, clapping his hand against Vegeta's shoulder. "We're already in Hell!"

"Case. In. Point."

…

"D'you really think the bad guys are gonna be that strong?" Trunks glanced back toward Goten as they sat waiting for Vejata. "I mean, she's kinda weak, maybe they just seem strong to her."

"I dunno," Goten shrugged. "But do we really want them to be strong? Then they might blow the Earth up! And our dads are dead!"

"Oh, c'mon, where's your sense of adventure? We'll kick their asses…" Trunks glanced up to find Piccolo glaring down at him. "Er, butts." He shrugged. "Sorry, Mom's influence!"

Piccolo seemed to accept this. "Speaking of your mother, where has she gone?" He scanned the area, searching for her ki.

"Oh, she was looking for some stuff. She wanted to make something."

At that moment, a bout of screaming and yelling issued from the kitchen area. Bulma sprinted out of the room, nearly skidding off the edge of the platform as she came to a halt behind Piccolo. "Save me!"

"What did you do?" Piccolo blinked, but his gaze was drawn toward Mr. Popo's blank stare from the entrance of the building, and he could nearly feel it burrowing through his body to reach Bulma.

"My toaster," the genie spoke. "Please give it back."

"I need it!" Bulma whimpered. "I'm building something…"

"W-we can get you a new toaster!" Dende stepped in, waving his hands as if his surrender could end the battle. "I don't think they're very hard to come by…"

…

"Vegeta, don't you think Vejata should be done in there by now?" Goku scratched his head, leaning back and yawning. They had spent some time searching for and then observing their opponents, but seeing planet after planet burst was wearying, and they had chosen to check up on the goings-on back at the Lookout. "She was really close to understanding the essence of sensing ki, you know? She could already do it, just needed to get familiar with raising and lowering her own power, I think…"

"Hm," Vegeta shrugged, but a knowing smirk seemed to play across his features briefly.

"Hey, you're not too mad about her killing you, are you? She thought she had to, you know? But I don't think she'll do it again."

"Who am I to hold a grudge?" Vegeta nearly chortled, but held back when he realized that Goku hadn't caught on to his sarcasm. "Of course I'm angry. Her life has consisted of everything mine was destined to. She just waltzes in and kills me, underhanded as she did?"

"Hey," Goku frowned. "I know how you fight. You can't call anyone underhanded, Vegeta!" The prince flashed a toothy grin. "Anyway, you aren't even the tiniest bit glad that you ended up on Earth instead of ruling the Saiyajin like she does? Don't you feel like you ended up better than her?"

"I'm significantly stronger than I would have been," he noted. _I have you to thank for that, Kakarrot._

"And you have a family! And friends!"

"Less important, but equally true," Vegeta continued to smirk.

"She told me she doesn't even have any friends."

"Of course not. What did you expect? Besides, she's a real bitch. No one would want to be friends with her anyway."

"Aw, I think she's okay."

"You think _I'm_ okay."

Goku grinned.

…

"Man, what was the holdup?" Trunks' brows furrowed as Vejata finally emerged. "Piccolo said it'd only take a little while. You were in there for—what—more than a day!"

"Just a change of plans," Vejata responded, her voice deadly quiet as she scanned the area. She gripped the medallion tightly, a secret smirk playing through her lips and dancing across her teeth.

"Ugh, you smell dis-_gusting,_" Bulma noted, turning her nose up as she stalked past, apparently pilfering additional appliances as Piccolo and Dende restrained Mr. Popo. "If there was ever a chance that I would fuse with you, it is _gone_ as long as you smell like _that._"

Piccolo coughed, subtly agreeing. "Shower's that way," he motioned down the hallway. "Should've been one in the Room of Spirit and Time, though."

"Couldn't be bothered."

"Well _be_ bothered _now_!" came Bulma's distant shout. Bristling, Vejata briskly paced down the hall, not holding back her opinions of the blue-haired woman as she went.

"How long will it take us to get to New Namek on your ship?" Piccolo turned toward Bulma, ears tinged red as he tried to ignore the colorful words coming from behind him until Vejata rounded the corner into the washroom.

"Well, it's fast, but it could still take a week," she bit her lip and carefully placed a miniscule square on the edge of her nearly as miniscule device. "Speaking of which, I really do need to prepare it before we leave." She held the object up to the sun, squinting before pulling it back down to make some adjustments.

"Then perhaps it would be best for you two to learn to fuse along the way," Piccolo mused. "Riskier, but we are already running a risk…and your device should help matters…"

"Trust me, it's only for the sake of my dignity," Bulma pulled a tiny pair of pliers from her pocket. "I was there the first few times Goten and Trunks fused."

Piccolo nodded, recalling the incidents with almost as much horror as Bulma. He heard feet padding across the tiles of the Lookout and glanced up, only to blush and quickly cast his gaze back down. "Make yourself decent," he stuttered.

"Thought you should know that I was not provided with a means of drying myself," Vejata crossed her arms. "I came out here to air out."

Bulma tore her eyes from her work and seemed to scrutinize Vejata for a few minutes before shrugging and returning to the task at hand. "Piccolo's right. You should really consider covering your ugly ass up," she offered.

Piccolo buried his face in one hand and pointed the other toward Vejata. She was slow to dodge the beam, and found herself clad in an outfit mirroring the Namekian's, sans cape and turban. Grimacing at her feet, she kicked off the shoes, and one collided with Bulma's head, causing her to drop the device she held. The woman leapt up to snarl at Vejata. "I was almost done with that!"

"Tough."

…

By the next morning, the ship was prepared, and Bulma finished up her last-minute call to Chi-Chi insisting that the world would surely go up in flames if Goten did not accompany them—"by the way, your husband is dead _again_…yes, that's why we're going into space"—and orders to a handful of employees to keep everything in order while she went on "vacation." She was the last to step into the ship, and initiated the takeoff sequence not one moment after the door sealed shut behind her. "Let's get this over with. Among other things, I'd like to get Vegeta back sooner than later." She sent a spiteful grin toward Vejata, knowing that the Saiyajin had been trying to ignore the fact that she was likely sacrificing any chance of Vegeta dying by her hand again in favor of destroying the other six of his copies that had wreaked havoc on her planet.

"Set the coordinates, and let's get to work," Piccolo insisted. "At best, you two have half a week to master the fusion. And Trunks and Goten still need to learn how to teleport." Vejata's hairs stood on end at the constant orders issuing from the Namekian's mouth, but she shouldered them, figuring that they were necessary for the others to hear.

Trunks and Goten, at least, seemed excited.

"I think I'm feeling cabin fever already," Bulma sighed. She turned to Vejata. "I built something to make up for your apparent incompetency," and from a case in her pocket she whipped out the device she had been working on earlier. Her bitterness turned to pride and confidence as she basked in her genius, and in a brighter voice, continued, "I present to you the new and improved scouter!"

"It's…rather too small," Vejata frowned.

"It fits into your eye, dumbass. Like a contact lens. It reads much higher levels than the old ones, pinpoints them with greater precision, and I built in a circuit breaker so that it'll shut off, rather than exploding, if the readings get too high." She smirked, holding it out to Vejata. "Well? Put it in. Then you can see when your level matches mine, so we reduce the chances of fucking up the fusion. You spent forever training, but I still don't want to trust you to do it right without some help."

Eying Bulma warily, curiosity got the better of Vejata, and she pressed the object against her eyeball and let it settle into place.

"It projects a virtual image at a distance that's comfortable to your eye," she explained, "in fact, at the same distance as the target so that you don't have to refocus much when you switch to concentrating on the target itself." She crossed her arms. "Well? I'm brilliant, aren't I?"

"Hnh," Vejata glanced around, observing the other passengers of the ship. "Could be better."

"Can we teach you how to fuse, already?" Trunks tapped his foot impatiently.

"Yeah! Hurry up!" Goten nodded.

The two glanced at each other quietly and took position.

…

"Hey, you're in my spot," Bulma frowned, prodding at Vejata. The Saiyajin's eyes slid open halfway and her tail twitched uneasily. "This is my bed."

"Not now that I'm in it."

"I already _told_ you that you're supposed to sleep in the room across from this!"

"This bed is much nicer," Vejata rolled over so that her back faced Bulma. "And I am a Queen."

"Ugh!" Bulma kicked the bed. "Could you possibly be any _more_ like Vegeta?"

She was met with a smug smirk as Vejata swiveled her head to glance over her shoulder. "Foolish woman," she breathed, "I _am_ Vegeta."

"You're not the _same_," Bulma argued, placing her hands on her hips and looking away as she blushed slightly at the realization that she had just gone against her own words.

Vejata raised a finger until it rested just in front of her own nose. "Took Kakarrot until just about _here_ to make that realization."

"Wh-what?"

"I promised not to speak of it," and she turned around again. Her tail swished slowly, sweeping along the edge of the bed. "Pay it no mind."

Bulma crossed her arms. "Whatever. Tell me this, though: why did you kill Vegeta?"

"I had to," she answered simply, hoping that the woman would not prod her for further explanation. _It should be obvious enough._ "But with my planet gone too, it was, as it turns out, a pointless act." Vejata turned to Bulma again. "And I will be getting that back in the same way that you will be getting him back." Her eyes lowered to gaze at her hands. "There will be riots…but if Prince Vegeta truly does not desire to rule, I will resume my post by force against those who would see me dead."

"What if he does want to rule?" Bulma hadn't considered the possibility, and she hoped it wouldn't happen.

"Then he will kill me."

"Oh." She blinked and watched Vejata's hands. They were a bit smaller than Vegeta's, but bore the same sterile appearance after years wearing gloves—bore the same invisible blood stains, too. Compulsively, she grabbed the hand to inspect it, her scientific mind taking over. Would they have the same fingerprint? "You know, Vegeta and I never meant to end up together." Fascinated by Bulma's suddenly gentle countenance, Vejata was unmoving, afraid to breathe lest she disturb the beast that always seemed to erupt around her. "But we had Trunks, and…whenever he was gone, I know he missed fighting me." She rolled her eyes, smiling as she reminisced. "He must have felt terrible—Goku always outdoing him physically, and there I was, always out-arguing him," she smirked. "I guess that may be why he deemed me 'worthy,'" she seemed to imitate Vegeta's voice.

"Saiyajin aren't necessarily monogamous," Vejata seemed thoughtful. "But as a Vegeta he'd have been preened to be picky either way." She glanced Bulma over. "He must have seen something in you."

Bulma motioned to the scouter lens that sat on the nearest table. "Well, I'm pretty damn smart. I was the one who built that gravity room. He was always around," she stretched her arms above her. "Maybe it was inevitable."

"Maybe," Vejata responded, consciously slowing her breathing.

"You must not have anyone."

"No," the Saiyajin bristled. "I'm done with that." Bulma raised an eyebrow and Vejata felt she had no choice but to elaborate under its inquisitive arch. "The moment someone who seems remotely strong enough to continue the Vegeta line comes along, he thinks he can overpower me." Her fist clenched. "The only way to end his delusions is to kill him," and her fingers relaxed as her head rolled to the side. "I am being forced to weaken my own race. King Vegeta should not have revealed his strong preference for a male heir." She closed her eyes, resigned to her fate. "It was obvious enough, anyway."

"Won't someone have to take over when you die?"

"When I become too feeble or absentminded to rule, someone will kill me," she opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling. "I'd prefer it be offspring of the proud Vegeta line."

"Wouldn't you rather just…not be killed at all?" Bulma shivered at the thought.

Vejata's brows furrowed. She sat up quickly and turned to Bulma, roughly grabbing her shoulders. "No!" she spoke sharply, quietly. "That is not how it works. I couldn't…"

"Why not?" Bulma struggled against Vejata's grasp, and she was let free as the Saiyajin pulled her arms back and crossed them against her chest.

"The moment I leave—for good—my people are open to be taken over by poor leadership. As I've said, I still have not found anyone worthy…" she trailed off before starting again. "With too much chaos, and under unwise direction—they will die. Would you run away from your planet to save your life if it meant the death of all the humans?" Her chest rose and fell beneath her arms. "Much as you, I think, I have had only one home in my life. I may have visited other planets—but I grew up a Saiyajin, steeped in my culture, tempered by my people. Prince Vegeta had no such luxury. Small wonder he can't be bothered to rule New Vegeta—he must be embarrassed by the weakness of other Saiyajin compared to him." Bulma nodded slowly, leaning in slightly as Vejata spoke. "And now I, I am in the middle."

"What?"

She unfolded her arms, eyes boring into Bulma's. "There is a gap to close. But which way?" Vejata exhaled heavily.

"I can't say I understand," Bulma bit her lip. She felt she should say something—maybe an apology, or a thank you—but she hesitated to break the fragile thread that had formed between them during the conversation by making its presence known. If Goku had really accepted her—had really tried to train her, as she had said—then she couldn't be too bad. She had the man's questionable judgment to thank for Vegeta, after all. "What was it that you said about Goku, earlier?" It exited her mouth before she could stop it.

Vejata held her gaze on Bulma for a few moments, perhaps trying to judge her intent. "How well do you know Kakarrot?"

"We go way back," Bulma seemed to be recalling the day they met. "I was the second person he ever encountered. Mind you, he was twelve then."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh," was all she could think to say before she composed herself. "Has he always acted…the way he does?"

"Oh, yeah," Bulma rolled her eyes. "More or less. The clueless bastard we all love," she laughed a bit to herself.

"I wouldn't have believed a Saiyajin could achieve such strength," Vejata spoke quietly. "Without reducing himself to nothing short of a mindless killing machine. At the very least…a conniving monster." Her eyes seemed to gaze into the same empty space as Bulma's. "Though he is, without a doubt, a monster."

"I guess you could say that," Bulma shrugged. "But give him a little credit. He tries." She set one elbow on the bed to lean her head against her hand. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"It's…hardly worth discussing," Vejata answered quietly.

"You never answered my question," Bulma prompted her. "About what you said, about him."

Words rolled around on Vejata's tongue, but she swallowed them all before they stripped her bare. "We agreed not to discuss it," she finally admitted. "It was nothing, anyway."

"Yeah?" Bulma rolled her eyes. She leaned further in to better read Vejata's expression in the darkness. She swore she could detect a blush, but shook her head a little—it was unlikely. "Well, whatever." Placing her hands on her hips, Bulma tilted her head. "Are you getting out of my bed, or not?"

Vejata shrugged, turning back over so that her back faced Bulma, and the blue-haired woman noted the Saiyajin's tail with interest. It thrashed about for several moments before Vejata seemed to become conscious of it, and stilled it to only the occasional twitch. Bulma reached for it, her scientific mind once more kicking into gear. It greatly resembled the tail she had gotten used to seeing on Goku—perhaps the fur was a bit darker or a bit sleeker. Vegeta's tail must have been just the same… "Do you ever use it?"

"To transform? Not for a while," came the answer.

"Would you miss it?"

"Of course."

"Goku's was his weakness, for a time."

"We train ourselves."

"Can I…touch it?"

Vejata's body stiffened visibly. "If you must." There was no use in arguing—the woman's hand had nearly been resting against it anyway. She could do no harm to it. Vejata braced herself, but she could not have been prepared for the contact, after so many years of the lack thereof. She clenched her teeth, determined not to clue the woman in to her discomfort.

"It's a lot softer than the hair on Vegeta's head," Bulma noted quietly. She watched muscles along Vejata's neck and arms twitch. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I never told you I was," the Saiyajin forced through her teeth. "I said you could touch it if you had to."

Bulma pulled her hand away guiltily. "Well…thanks." She straightened her back as she stood up to her full height, sweeping a few hairs behind her ear. "I wonder if our fused form will have a tail?" She turned toward the door, but as she took the first step away from Vejata, the Saiyajin spoke.

"You can have this bed," she sat up, and in the dark Bulma couldn't tell if her eyes were poisonous with self-loathing, or just poisonous. "Smells too much like your goddamn mate for my tastes." Vejata pulled herself from the bed and left the room without so much as gracing Bulma with another glance.

Bulma opened her mouth to thank the Saiyajin, but thought better of it. She clambered into the bed, determined to rest well in preparation for tomorrow's work. Curious, she breathed in the scent of the pillows and the sheets deeply. She couldn't tell what scent was Vegeta's, or what was Vejata's—maybe there was no difference at all.


	11. 11

NOTE: A warning—you might find the very end of this chapter to be somewhat gruesome and disturbing…I don't usually do this kind of thing, so I have no idea how far is too far, or not far enough, so do forgive me if it's one or the other. Actually, you should let me know if it is, so that I can improve in general, and/or revise the chapter.

And since I'm writing this anyway, thanks to all who have shown their support thus far!

On with the story…

…

Bulma sipped her coffee in silence across the table from Piccolo, who took a swig of water every few minutes and pointedly avoided looking Bulma's way, as she wore only her pajamas—a sports bra and underwear. She didn't seem to notice his discomfort, though, as she held her focus on the previous day's crossword, determined to maintain a regular daily schedule during their time in space.

Piccolo coughed. "Should we wake the others?"

"Mm," Bulma chewed the cap of her pen. "I guess."

"You need to practice the fusion."

"Yeah," the woman answered quietly, apparently remembering something. She leaned down closer to the crossword, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand and letting her bangs fall to curtain her eyes as she looked down.

Piccolo watched Bulma for a few minutes, but as she didn't seem to be going anywhere, he stood up and made his way back toward where the boys slept, taking his time in the hopes that Bulma would get dressed while he was gone.

"What is this?" the newspaper was snatched from beneath Bulma's nose just as she stretched out her arm to fill in a word. She raised her head to find Vejata scrutinizing the puzzle. "Some kind of coordinate system? A map? A code?" Vejata slowed her breathing to contain the vicious pounding of her heart—they could easily plan to dump her off in space to suffocate just before bringing back Goku and Vegeta. She swore at herself for not waking up earlier, to monitor them.

"It's a crossword," Bulma tried to snatch it back, but Vejata rotated slightly, so that it was just out of reach. "It's a puzzle. A game. Why?"

Vejata's mouth twitched as she further scrutinized the paper.

"You follow the clues to fill in the words, and they overlap with each other in the grid."

"This isn't the same language as you put on the scouter."

"No, I used the language that was on the old model I've seen," Bulma once more made a grab for the crossword. "It's mostly just numbers, so it was easy enough. Can you even read that?"

"No," Vejata crumpled it in her fist. "So why should I believe what you're saying?"

"Ugh," Bulma furrowed her brows. "What else would it be?"

"Plans. Secrets."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she rolled her eyes. "Not this early in the morning. Burn it, for all I care. But I'd really rather finish it."

Vejata lit up a ki blast and let it fall to the ground in ashes. "Clean yourself up and put something on," she turned away, fumbling with the coffee maker. "Unless you can deflect blasts while you repair the ship, we have work to do."

Bulma huffed and marched off, bringing her coffee with her. "Unless you can repair the ship while you deflect blasts, more like," she challenged as she turned the corner to her room.

Trunks and Goten stumbled into the kitchen area, yawning and stretching as they made their way to the small table. Both took a seat and waited, staring first at Vejata, then at Piccolo.

"I'm not making you breakfast!" the Namekian shouted.

"Fend for yourselves, brats," Vejata crossed her arms and turned her nose to the air. Goten raised his eyebrows to make his best pleading face, and Vejata turned to the freezer, removed a sizeable slab of ham, and slammed it down before them. "That's as much as you'll get from me, and you're lucky at that."

They turned to stare at one another. "We'll…just make something on our own…"

…

"Oh, come on, Vegeta!" Goku pleaded with the prince, who paced violently from one side of the rocky ledge to the other. "It was nothin'."

"Apparently enough worth 'agreeing not to discuss it,'" Vegeta spat. "What happened, Kakarrot?" he stopped just in front of Goku to snarl, "To what incident was she referring?" Vegeta imitated Vejata's motion of placing a finger near her nose, and Goku's ears reddened.

"R-really, Vegeta. I swear."

"This is _directly _related to_ me_, Kakarrot."

"Vegeta, um, look…we're dead…we aren't even supposed to have seen that. You weren't…I mean you wouldn't have…anyway, we should pretend like we don't even know anything they said." He scratched his head and glanced off to the side. "M-maybe we should stop watching. Y'know? They'll get there, they'll wish us back…then we can let them fill us in."

Vegeta snorted, maintaining his glare at Goku.

"…Wanna…spar?"

"What do you think I am—stupid?" He turned and took a seat. "What will happen first? Will that moron copy of me let something slip, or will you crack? Either way, I'm not letting you distract me."

Goku nodded slowly, though Vegeta was not facing him. He paced over to Vegeta and sat beside him—close enough that the prince felt the need to budge over a few inches, indignantly—and rested his chin against his palm, sighing.

…

"All your poses look right," Trunks nodded, striding around the two women and basking in the authority he had been given. Goten nodded, giving a thumbs-up and a smile to Bulma, and a hesitant inclination of his head to Vejata. "Whaddaya say, Goten?"

"They should try it for real!"

The two boys turned to Piccolo, who was smirking—perhaps, in part, because he was not the one who had to demonstrate the dance time and time again, this time. He gave a short nod. "I agree."

Bulma and Vejata glanced toward one another, and the magnitude of the contact was nearly palpable. _We'd damn well better have a tail,_ Vejata decided, thinking back to Bulma's statement before they had parted ways and slept. Bulma seemed to see what she was thinking—perhaps it was the marked increase in the pace at which Vejata's tail whipped to and fro—and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. More than anything, Vejata feared that she wouldn't be herself after the process—free to let loose Queen Vegeta's secrets as she burst forth only a part of the whole—and would Bulma be able to root through her mind and take as much as she could carry? Trunks and Goten had not fused, themselves, since her explanation of their task, lest any other Vegeta find his way to the bright and blazing ki, so she'd had no way to observe evidence pointing one way or the other.

The fusion between Bulma and Vejata, Piccolo had decided, would likely not result in a high enough base power to draw attention, and the two fused women—"Buljata," they had decided, much to Vejata's chagrin—could always suppress their ki if the result was unexpectedly powerful.

"Put in the scouter," Bulma demanded. "You are _not_ going to fuck this up."

Vejata growled to herself and laid it against her eye, and it clicked to life as the whole of the surface made contact. She focused her gaze on Bulma and struggled to suppress her power level, until finally she had matched Bulma's exactly. Piccolo nodded.

Bulma's eyes blazed with the thrill of a challenge, and with a fire daring Vejata to do anything that would stand between her and this newest adventure. In return, Vejata narrowed her eyes and smirked, naming Bulma the fool for having the nerve to doubt her.

…

"This is gonna be so cool!" Goku grinned. "Hey Vegeta, what if they do it wrong and turn—" but Vegeta slugged Goku across the jaw before he could finish, trying not to imagine anything with Bulma or himself in it—let alone both—gone obese or skin-and-bones. Goku returned to his place, rubbing his jaw and making some cross remark, but stopped at the silencing glare Vegeta sent his way.

"They're about to do it." He seemed to be studying the nuanced expressions they exchanged; Bulma's, which were so familiar to him, and Vejata's, which so closely resembled his own that he was surprised he couldn't hear her think. His brows furrowed and he shook his head.

"Something wrong?" Goku was no fool; all the time he had spent fighting Vegeta wasn't for naught.

"No."

He studied Vegeta so intently that he almost missed the words: "Fuu…sion…"

…

"_HA!_" a blinding light flashed throughout the room, and Piccolo, Trunks, and Goten raised their arms to guard their eyes. As the light ebbed, the silhouette of a figure became clearer, and clearer, until the light faded completely and she stood before them, hair and gi sash waving gently in the heat that rose from her skin. "Not half bad," Buljata laughed, looking herself over and letting her tail curl proudly behind her. The shocks of bright teal hair that lined the sides of her spiky black hair brought out the blue that hid deep within her eyes as she glanced toward the ship's other occupants—likely, based on the way the smirk crawled across her lips, waiting for the words of praise they owed her.

But she received only giggles from the boys, and a scarlet-tinged face from the Namekian. "I'd forgotten that…detail," he murmured, extending his arm toward her.

Buljata looked over herself and chuckled as her vest drifted open and closed in her aura. As he raised his arm, she leapt across the room to knock him back before he could use the clothes-beam, planting a boot upon his sternum. "I think I like this look," she chuckled. "And you shouldn't play embarrassment for the Earthlings' benefit. I don't think you give a rat's ass about my chest." She casually blew against her fingers and buffed them against the vest. "Though of course I understand if you do."

Piccolo coughed, and seemed to take the first part of her statement to heart, returning his gaze to her with only slightly tinged cheeks. "Yes…well…wait, what you said—you do not consider _yourself_ an Earthling?"

"Shall I? I'm from neither here nor there." She removed her boot from his chest, flexing her fingers. "What power," she whispered. "My body and my mind are working in better condition than I ever thought possible…"

"To be safe, why don't you suppress your power for the time being?"

She cocked her head and grinned. "No. I don't think so."

Piccolo swore quietly to himself. He knew, too, the rush of power that came from combining with another being, even if Namekian fusion wasn't quite the same… "You have to. Hey—watch it—" he started before he was blown away by a gust of wind. "You shouldn't be powering _up_…!" 

"But how else will I know how high I can go?" Buljata grinned.

"You _needn't_—"

"Trunks!" Goten shouted, and the lavender-haired boy nodded, stepping carefully away from Goten. Piccolo's eyes widened, and the room went quiet but for another shout of "_Fu…sion…HA_!"

…

"Fuck," Vegeta hissed, balling his fists tightly.

"Were we that much of a showoff when we fused with the earrings?" Goku wondered aloud, but Vegeta grabbed his collar before he could think about it any further.

"Don't you see what's going on?" the prince nearly shrieked. "I hope you have another favor or two with some god," he seethed. "Fools…all of them!" His eyes nearly bulged with rage.

"Oh, you'd have done the same," Goku laughed. "Don't worry." But his eyes widened as he turned his attention back to the screen, and the smile dropped from his face. "Oh…oh god…"

…

"Head them off!" Piccolo screamed. Gotenks took in a deep breath and burst through the door, streaking through space to the nearby planet that harbored six fast-approaching power levels. "Dammit," he shot a chilling glare to Buljata. "I'm going with him. He'll do something just as stupid…" Piccolo trailed off, his countenance grim and his voice carefully neutral. "You step on it—get _away_ while we buy you time—wish them back…" he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "And us." Before Buljata could so much as open her mouth, Piccolo rocketed toward Gotenks on the surface below.

Buljata turned to the controls and jammed everything she could to the highest it could go, and slammed the ship forward to New Namek, collapsing against the console as it gained speed.

…

Vegeta stood slowly and lowered his head, biting his lip.

"It's okay…Vegeta…they'll probably come meet us down here if they get up to Enma before we're all wished back…it'll be okay."

The prince raised his eyes to Goku, and he shook his head, quietly stepping on one of the remote's buttons. He turned from the screen, his breath hitching in his throat, and Goku's gaze shifted to the giant TV. Beneath them and behind them, all around them, the residents of Hell cried out in glee, cheering one party or another on as if watching a sports game.

He saw one of the copies of Vegeta—young, perhaps barely pubescent, the same age as all the others that had swept down upon him—and then another—bear down on the triple-ascended Gotenks, but the younger boy held his own, deflecting one. A third crashed down from the sky under Piccolo's woven fingers, but he stood and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, chuckling as he came face-to-face with Gotenks. The fused boy focused, powering up further, far outclassing any one of the copies.

A chilling howl echoed from above, followed a number of seconds later by a _crack_ as Piccolo's body slammed into the ground. The remaining three boys formed a wider circle around Gotenks and their peers, prowling, looking for the moment. Gotenks spat ghosts as he tried to duck through punches and kicks, and one clung to one of the young Vegetas, its explosion rendering him momentarily unconscious. But as one of the ghosts swerved and struck Gotenks, the resounding _boom_ shook up billows of dust.

Vegeta's eyes slid open slightly, as he looked to the screen with dread. The dust cleared to reveal the two half-Saiyajin boys on the verge of collapsing, their breathing ragged. Trunks opened his mouth to rasp a word to Goten, but as he turned to his friend, one of the Vegetas leapt down upon him, shrieking to the empty sky in delight. The prince cringed from the screen before it happened, but he could not look away—the thrilled shriek was lost beneath a gut-wrenching yowl as flesh separated from flesh, and bone from bone—now Vegeta did close his eyes—and when they opened his son lay on the ground with only one arm, his eyes wide but his mouth silent. Another copy kicked him over to bury his nose in the ground, and a third scooped him up by the head, fingers pressing cracks—then gaps—into his skull before it finally burst.

Against the rioting cheers of the spectators below, the prince wailed in agony for his son.


	12. 12

Buljata's chest shook as she breathed slowly, retaining the tears before they could flow to the fronts of her eyes. She slumped in the chair and tried to forget about the things that part of her suspected were happening to the others, but she felt it—first Piccolo's ki faded, then Trunks', then Goten's.

With a flash of light, Bulma and Vejata flew apart from one another, and as they both regained their balance and bearing, their eyes met—first confused, and then furious.

"I can't believe you," Bulma seethed. Vejata snarled and lunged forward, swinging a fist and sending Bulma against the opposite wall. She exhaled slowly, and ghosts of other emotions flitted across her face before it settled back on rage.

"Leave me the fuck alone and you'll get the rest of the way there in one piece," she spat, turning away. "It wasn't my fault. She wasn't either of us."

"Like hell she wasn't," Bulma planted her hands on her hips as she regained her footing, surprised to have suffered so little damage from Vejata's blow. "I never would have done something like that! It had to have been you."

"Overconfidence breeds poor decisions," the Saiyajin answered, her voice level but her quivering fists indicating that her mood was anything but. "We felt too powerful."

"Whatever. I thought you were leaving," Bulma snapped. "So please continue. I never want to see your face again." As she spoke, she watched Vejata's expression as it twisted into a familiar smirk. _Vegeta…_

"And I thought you were so obsessed with getting him back," Vejata filled in for her before sweeping out of the room.

"You're not the same as him!" Bulma screamed after her. She was surprised to hear an answer back.

"I know. But we are damn similar, aren't we?"

…

Tears gathered against Goku's eyelashes, and he swiveled to face Vegeta, who had been too distracted by his own woes to witness Goten's equally disturbing death. "Vegeta…"

"We have died lucky deaths, in our lifetimes, Kakarrotto," the prince muttered. "Dignified deaths…where we knew what we were getting into. Instant deaths. Even a hole through your heart isn't bad…" he seemed to consider his own chest.

"Those guys, those Vegetas, they didn't attack me like that," Goku nearly whispered. "They just all came down an' killed me real quick."

"Scared," Vegeta answered, "they'd never seen the likes of you before. Saw you nearly beat one of them, and wanted to finish things before they got any farther." His breath rattled. "This time they knew. Gotenks was sport." He locked eyes with Goku. "What's more, Gotenks was foolish—too afraid to kill."

"They're young," Goku seemed taken aback. "Y-you...y'know?"

Vegeta stared at his gloved hands for a while. "I know." And after a moment more, he cringed, unable to stop recalling the scene. "Kakarrot…r-remind me…to take him to the amusement park like he always asks."

The tears that had welled up in Goku's eyes fell across his cheeks and to the ground. "Yeah."

…

Bulma rested her head against the console, watching from the side as the ship traced its path to New Namek. Her constant fear that the six young Vegetas would catch up to them and kill them had waned slightly as they got closer to their destination. She rummaged through a basket of books and papers to find another crossword puzzle. No doubt, they would get her son back, as well as Vegeta. All she had to do was wait—but the journey would certainly take the greater half a week yet. She gave a sidelong glance to the basket, hoping there would be enough puzzles.

"Bulma," the voice came from right behind her, and she visibly jumped. Her skin became sheeted with goosebumps at the sound of her name in a tone so like Vegeta's.

"What do you want?" she grated out, beating down the bizarre fluttering that her goosebumps betrayed. "I thought I said I never wanted to see your ugly-ass face again."

"Say whatever you want," Vejata sunk into a nearby chair. Bulma's eyes flitted over to her in surprise at the sound of resignation in her voice.

"Are you okay?" Bulma asked compulsively.

"Trying to hold down my power," she answered. "Keep us off their radar, so to speak—for what little difference it makes." Her chest rose and fell slowly two, three more times before she spoke again. "I don't know that I can risk too much anger."

"Oh," Bulma nodded. "Well…what is it that you want?"

"To…offer my condolences. For your son."

"He'll be back," Bulma shrugged, smiling a little at the Saiyajin's attempt at what must seem niceties to her.

"I fear he may have died a painful death," Vejata spoke quietly.

"How do you know?"

"I…don't," she hesitated. "I don't know that…but I do know Saiyajin."

Bulma bit her lip. "Did you kill Vegeta painfully?"

"What pain there was…was necessary," she murmured, knitting her brows with frustration at how much she cared about the other woman's reaction and feelings. "I took no particular joy in the act itself. A means to an end."

"I guess that's something," she sighed. "Do you mind if I ask…how?"

Vejata's eyes seemed to glaze over. She shook her head slowly. "I won't answer."

"Why not?"

The Saiyajin's eyes snapped wide open and she leapt up to clutch Bulma's collar. "Do you want to _imagine_ him dying? Why do you need to know? Will picturing his pain make you feel better, more complete? Do you want every gruesome detail—what I saw, how I felt?" she snarled. "Are you completely _mad_?"

"Never mind," Bulma spoke quietly, hoping that her soothing tone would encourage Vejata to release the collar of her shirt and let her sit back down. "I like…the whole truth, is all."

"I drove my hand through his throat," she growled, releasing Bulma in favor of crossing her arms. "Whether he bled to death first or suffocated may as well be your guess. I suppose they're more or less the same."

Bulma reached one arm upward, gingerly stretching her fingers to brush against Vejata's throat. The Saiyajin waited quietly, mustering all her will not to throw the blue-haired woman across the room. _She's weak…she cannot kill me… _She balled her fists tightly and uncrossed her arms, but as Bulma held her gaze against Vejata's throat, the Saiyajin gripped Bulma's forearm. "Are you imagining it?" Vejata's voice rumbled quietly from her throat.

"I wasn't lying," Bulma muttered. "You really aren't the same as him."

"I've been told so my entire life," she answered, still holding Bulma's arm. "Weaker. Inferior. Less worthy."

"That's not what I mean," Bulma struggled to pull her arm away, to no avail. "I mean…as a person…you're not the same."

"Different backgrounds, of course," Vejata muttered. "Same genetic predispositions."

"And you do look so similar," Bulma added. "But…"

Vejata leaned in close, eyes boring into Bulma's. "Do I still look the same as him?"

Bulma blinked nervously at the proximity and duration of her stare. "Yes…no…" she felt a wild pounding in her chest as she searched for the right answer. "You're…different…but…" her mouth closed as the words hung in the air, and she opened it again, but made no sound for a few moments. "You…carry yourself the same way…"

Vejata gently released Bulma's arm, but was surprised to see that she didn't move it. Instead, the woman stretched her fingers around Vejata's arm, bringing it closer to her eyes to observe her hand. Mystified, Vejata waited for Bulma to speak again, letting her rotate her hand this way and that, still leaning in toward the woman so that her hand was an equal distance between them.

Bulma lowered Vejata's arm, letting go of it slowly. She raised her eyes to lock with Vejata's again. "Fingerprints."

"What?"

"Fingerprints," Bulma traced her own, to show what she meant. "On Earth we use them to help identify individuals."

"The practice is not unheard-of."

"Yours aren't the same as Vegeta's." Her eyes lit up hopefully.

Vejata's eyes narrowed a little as she smirked. "Are you trying to comfort me?"

"Well…"

"I am many things because of Prince Vegeta, and one of them is alive, existent." She tilted her head slightly. "Much like the rest of my people, I do hope I have the same capacity to reach the level of power that he has." Her chin lifted. "I think I do."

"What makes you think that?"

Vejata's smirk curled into a grin.

…

"Vegeta," Goku shook the man. "Hey. Stop napping! Don't you think we should turn the screen back on one of these days? So we know when they're bringing us back?"

The prince shrugged, rolling over. "I don't…want to think about anything I've seen on that damn thing."

"It won't happen again, you know."

Vegeta's brow furrowed as he shot a glare toward Goku. "I hope you're right." He breathed deeply. "But there's nothing stopping them from finding the ship and…" he trailed off, breath hitching in his throat.

"…Oh…you don't want to see them kill Bulma…"

The prince nodded, eyes shutting tightly.

"I don't think they will…honest, Vegeta." The man didn't seem to be at all convinced, so Goku narrowed his eyes. "As a matter of fact, if they do—well, I'll bust right outta the afterlife and kill 'em all right there!" He smirked.

"I appreciate the sentiment," and genuine gratitude leaked into Vegeta's voice. "But we'll be fine without the screen. Why do we need to know exactly when they're bringing us back, anyway?"

"I guess," Goku scratched his head. He bent his knees and leaned down until he was eye-to-eye with Vegeta. "Say, there ain't no other reason you're avoiding keeping your eye on Bulma?"

"None," his mouth twitched.

"Almost like a train wreck, huh?"

"What?" Vegeta nearly roared.

"Y'know, but normally guys like you n' me can stop a train wreck."

"What are you talking about?" he accused.

"Er…well…" Goku scratched his head. "Everything, I guess. You know. Stuff that's happened recently."

"Ah," he arched an eyebrow, dubious.

"Hey…if we don't need the screen anymore...is there anything else you want to do while we're down here? Anyone you wanna visit?"

"Now that you mention it, yes," Vegeta stood up, cracking his knuckles. "I could do with a little therapy."

"What?"

"Freeza."

…

"It was pretty neat being fused, huh?" Bulma questioned offhandedly, taking another sip of coffee and holding the small scouter up to the light, perhaps looking for any imperfections.

"Bizarre," Vejata answered. "I'm just relieved you didn't peel away any of my mind."

"Yeah, well, I could say the same," Bulma laughed. "I kind of need it."

"You don't…_remember_ anything you didn't remember before, do you?"

"Don't think so," Bulma stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Not that I've recalled yet. I think you were right when you said we're a different person entirely. Just because we have all the knowledge that both of us have…still," she set the scouter down to turn her full attention to Vejata. "It seems like you feel more…I don't know, familiar?—to me than you were before."

"Hm," Vejata nodded.

"It's not like I feel like I know you. But…I don't know why, I trust you more."

"Does seem an odd foundation for something like trust," Vejata commented. "But perhaps it was the success of the fusion. You…feel better that it didn't harm you in some way."

Bulma nodded. "Hey, hand me that puzzle over there?"

"This 'crossword'?" she lifted it by the corner, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm almost done with it."

Vejata scrutinized it. "Yes. What odd symbols…"

"Can…can I see what _your_ writing looks like?"

"I'm surprised Prince Vegeta hasn't shown you."

Bulma shrugged. "He spends a lot of time training. And I never thought to ask."

"Well," Vejata took up a pen and scrawled along the side of the paper, "it's something like this." She slid it over to Bulma. "The Saiyajin were largely illiterate, but of course those of us who survived were either of the royal court, or a very high class, so a much larger portion of the population can read and write now."

"So you're saying that even if he hadn't bumped his head, Goku would probably still be just about as literate?" Bulma laughed as she gazed at the symbols.

"Just about."

"I can't imagine what he'd be like," she rested her head against her hand. "If he hadn't hit his head and become so nice." She shivered. "He'd be strong, but terrible…"

"Perhaps his strength came directly from his assumedly unorthodox upbringing," Vejata suggested. "I'm sure he didn't grow up as the normal Saiyajin would. That Prince Vegeta was not able to kill him at their first encounter—that alone speaks volumes." Bulma nodded. "You said…you were the second person he ever met."

"Yeah. He was twelve, but he'd spent all this time just living off the land after his adoptive grandfather died." Her eyes met Vejata's. "This kid who didn't even know the difference between a girl and a boy," she laughed. "We had adventures…he trained under different masters…" Giving up on any hope of finishing the crossword while they spoke, she set the pen down and leaned back. "I didn't see him for long stretches of time. Once…" she picked the pen back up and began tapping it against the table nervously. "Once he left us as a boy and came back a man. I hardly recognized him…" a light blush crept across her features. "I mean, I chased after just about every handsome man I could," she admitted, "especially back then. But…_damn…_" Bulma paused, looking up toward Vejata to see if she was still listening. Vejata's eyes settled against hers, intent. "I felt like I couldn't even touch him. He wasn't _human_."

"He's _not_ human."

"I didn't know that then. Besides…" she leaned across the table to emphasize her point, "he's not Saiyajin either."

Vejata's mouth twitched. "You're right."

"But then, maybe he is more now," Bulma leaned back again. "Vegeta's always going on about 'Kakarrot finally embracing his Saiyajin pride.'"

The ship fell silent, and Bulma rolled the pen back and forth as she returned her focus to the crossword.

"Are they friends?" Vejata finally spoke.

"Who?" Bulma shook herself out of the fog, raising her eyes to Vejata's.

"Kakarrot and Prince Vegeta. At first I thought Prince Vegeta hated him…but I talked to Kakarrot…and from what you said…"

"Oh, yeah, they're friends," Bulma smiled. "I'm not sure if Vegeta would ever confess to it directly, but you can just tell." She laughed a bit to herself. "They quarrel like a married couple. It's cute."

"A quarrel between two mates on my planet usually ends in a series of explosions," she smirked.

"Well, there's that, too, of course," Bulma seemed amused. "It's inevitable, with how often they spar."

Vejata seemed to mull this over. "I suppose it would be."

"He's really settled down. I'm proud of him."

"Prince Vegeta?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't have believed he'd have had it in him."

"Oh, he goes off into space every now and again," she shrugged. "But he always comes back. His trips are shorter now." Bulma laughed. "He would never tell me he missed me, but I just know. When he comes back he starts picking fights over everything…gets really in my face about it." She smiled. "You can always tell what kind of mood he's in by how he argues. If he's really confrontational and hotheaded about it, everything's fine…it's when he's quiet and brooding that you have to worry."

"Kakarrot mentioned the same thing."

"I think I'll forever be competing with Goku for Vegeta's attention," Bulma rolled her eyes.

"Sounds like it."

…

"Hello, Freeza," Vegeta hissed, smirking.

"Why, if it isn't our beloved Vegeta," the lizard crooned.

"Enjoying Hell?"

"Oh, you know," he glanced down toward his fingernails, "they do televise the most delightful programs." Freeza raised his eyes to meet Vegeta's once more, and his lips curled up.

Vegeta's eyes glazed over with fury, and without another word unleashed his anger upon him in the form of endless punches and kicks. From a distance, Goku smiled. _I guess he needed to do it more than I ever did._

…

Her door cracked open, letting in light from the main room, and Vejata opened an eye to find Bulma blocking some of the light. "What do you want?"

"Vegeta…" Bulma murmured, wandering into the room and flopping down beside Vejata.

"Don't be foolish. You're sleepwalking," the Saiyajin shook her. "I'm not Prince Vegeta." She closed her eyes, trying to gather her wits as the fog of sleep crept away from her. _Ever the substitute…_ Bulma tried to move closer to her, and Vejata slapped her across the face. "Hey! You're asleep, goddammit."

"Oh," Bulma's eyes fluttered open and a spark of consciousness flashed into her eyes. "Vejata."

"Yes, it's just me—now please—leave me in peace," she started to turn over to face her back toward Bulma.

"Wait," Bulma breathed. "It's…you're…" she propped herself up on her elbow and grabbed Vejata's wrist before she could stop her. She pointed to Vejata's finger. "You're not the same. But you're…okay…too."

"Wh…what?"' 

"You keep looking at me. Don't act like you think I've never seen that look."

"I keep seeing all the reasons Prince Vegeta chose you as a mate," she answered curtly. "Think nothing of it."

"Are you…_jealous_?" 

"Hardly," she snorted, her tail thrashing about. It struck Bulma's thigh and then drew back as Vejata cringed.

"You act a lot like Vegeta, but it's not as if you're just a stand-in for him. To me…at least." She blushed. "You're…well, you remind me of him so strikingly…but…up close, you know…you're a different person, with a different history." She rested her forehead against Vejata's shoulder, and the Saiyajin's hair stood on end. "You want your planet back. I think Vegeta couldn't care less. You killed him…I don't think he really would have killed you. Not as he is today.

"But you're…just as _enchanting_ as he is," she finished, face twisted into an awkward expression.

Vejata reoriented herself to better observe Bulma, turning onto her back. "I don't understand," she muttered, but it was clear that she did.

Bulma smiled, leaning over her. "I want to give you something." Suddenly more flustered than she already had been, she dipped her head down until her lips met Vejata's for just a moment. Bulma held her eyes closed and let her mouth linger there for a moment before pulling back. "That was for Queen Vegeta, and no one else."

Vejata blushed fiercely. "You should go."

The blue-haired woman recoiled a bit, as if Vejata had struck her. Breathing deeply, she edged off the bed and climbed to her feet. "S…sorry," she murmured, and turned away from Vejata to head back out the door.

"Don't apologize," the Saiyajin whispered back as Bulma crossed the threshold back into the light. Vejata wasn't even sure if she'd heard her, until Bulma straightened her posture and strode the rest of the way down the hall proudly. Vejata rolled over so that the ghost that lingered at her door couldn't see her disbelief. _For me…and no one else._


	13. 13

"What is the name of that one?"

Bulma jumped as someone leaned over her shoulder, finger prodding at one of the squares of her crossword. "Th-that's a…a 'V,'" she stuttered, shaking. "A-and good morning."

Vejata lingered for a moment before pulling back. "Yes."

"You know, we're getting pretty close to New Namek," Bulma motioned to the digital map. The symbol for their ship was hovering across a dotted line, and it was approaching a bright spot on the screen. "A day or two, maybe."

Feeling an inexplicable and painful burning originating in her gut, Vejata took a seat and leaned forward to send Bulma a penetrating stare.

"Y…yes?"

"You're very foolish. Did you know that?" Vejata smirked.

"You're not the first person who's told me," Bulma closed her eyes, trying to shake the look.

"I got the feeling that would be the case." She let her gut tug her closer, and the burning shot up through her throat. Bulma's eyes opened again as she felt Vejata's nearness, and her face flushed slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but Vejata held her finger to Bulma's lips. "Were you trying to give me permission? Is that it?" Bulma's eyes widened. "What is it that you want? You should decide before you try to tempt fate."

Bulma grasped for words but could not coax them past her throat.

"Is it that you feel you deserve the both of us?"

"I…"

"I wouldn't complain, of course," Vejata moved her finger from Bulma's lips to tilt her chin upward. "But I get the feeling that Vegeta's claimed you all for himself."

Bulma blushed deeply, but leapt to her feet and jabbed her finger at Vejata's collarbone. "What I do isn't Vegeta's decision, and it sure as hell isn't yours! It's mine and mine alone!"

"How bold of you…but wouldn't he be heartbroken?" the Saiyajin mused smugly.

"Stop spouting such garbage. It's clear you've never been loved," Bulma frowned, crossing her arms. "And that you've never loved anyone else."

Vejata opened her mouth to snap back at her, but paused as she seemed to process Bulma's words. "I-it is not…the Saiyajin way…"

"Like hell it isn't," she leaned forward, once more pressing her index finger against Vejata's sternum. "Listen here, you stupid bitch. Think about what you're saying! You're a cheap, second-rate copy of someone who loves more intensely than anyone else I've ever met." Her brows furrowed. "Even if he doesn't say it."

"I doubt it," Vejata argued, but her quivering voice was uncertain.

"He died for us. Piccolo told me—Vegeta knew full well that he would almost certainly be cleansed of his memories in the afterlife and sent off to a new life." Tears seemed to gather in her eyes as she thought of it. "Maybe if you'd have had one decent conversation with him before killing him, you'd understand."

"You can't accuse me," Vejata stepped back a few paces, "of being incapable of loving." She took a defiant stance. "I just know better."

Bulma snorted and turned away, reseating herself. "You keep your mouth shut until you can apologize to me for trying to force yourself on me."

"I didn't do that."

"You know what I'm talking about. Now shut up."

"Last night…I thought…"

Bulma glanced up, hope sparkling into her anger-glazed eyes.

"You sounded like…" she stepped closer, and leaned down closer to Bulma, thought for a moment, and pulled back. "No one's ever said anything like that to me. I…don't know…what you meant by it…" Bulma smiled a bit, but didn't speak, so Vejata leaned in again. Carefully, she tilted her head and breathed in deeply. "Prince Vegeta chose well."

"I'd like to think that I chose well myself," Bulma answered quietly. "And when we bring Vegeta back, I hope you'll give him another chance."

"I don't expect him to give me one."

"I think he'll have to. After all, you're not the enemy anymore. You're welcome to join us on Earth."

"I won't. I have a planet to rule."

"I hope we'll be invited," Bulma winked.

"I don't think I can stop you." She smirked a little. "With that teleportation technique of Kakarrot's. Still, if these dragon balls do what you say they will, I owe you a visit. But the gravity is a bit higher than Earth's and you'll want to bring someone to protect you from hungry eyes…" Vejata seemed to demonstrate the expression to which she was referring, although Bulma couldn't decide whether it was purely for the purpose of demonstration.

She laughed nervously. "Yes…well…"

"Bulma," Vejata made as if to brush some hair from the woman's face, to better see her eyes, but stopped just before her fingers touched Bulma's hair. "Did you mean it—what you said…?"

"Of course," she turned away, and her voice was tinged with nervousness.

"I'm not…not _unfair_," Vejata hesitated, and reached out to turn Bulma's head back toward her. "I'd like to…return your favor…"

"You've complimented me enough—really."

"That's not what I mean, moron," she responded, her voice husky. The Saiyajin pressed her lips against Bulma's, and as she pulled away she nipped at Bulma's lower lip.

Bulma's face reddened and she immediately brought her hand to her mouth.

"Now everything's even." She quirked an eyebrow at Bulma's expression and smirked. "What?"

The woman's face slowly broadened to a grin. "Oh, it's just that you are _so_ much easier to get to than Vegeta."

"Whatever," Vejata answered, scowling, but her mouth was still turned upward in a smirk. Bulma laughed.

"You still haven't apologized."

"I don't intend to."

…

"Shouldn't they be there by now?" Goku furrowed his brow, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against his biceps impatiently. "And where are Trunks and Goten?"

"I don't know for the former, but I would guess that our sons are still in line to enter the check-in station."

"You think they're okay still?"

"If Bulma had died, I would know," Vegeta answered softly.

"You would? How?"

"I just would."

"Well, okay. But I still think they should be there by now. Let's go find Kaio, and we can talk to them through him!"

Vegeta shrugged. "I suppose I'm done here, anyway," and his gaze was directed toward a horde of spirits crowded around an unconscious Freeza.

"Great!" Goku grinned. "I haven't seen him in a while!" He rested his hand against Vegeta's shoulder for a moment to capture the prince's attention and then pointed. "The exit from Hell is this-a-way!"

…

"Looks like we're almost there!" Bulma stretched, pulling a shirt over her head. She turned to Vejata. "Say, you've been wearing that same getup since Piccolo zapped it onto you. You want to borrow something of mine—y'know now that we're actually going to be around people? We're about the same height…"

Vejata shrugged.

"Honestly, the thing looks gross," she motioned to Vejata's outfit. "I know you haven't been training too intensely, to avoid reminding the other Vegetas of our existence, and all, but," she lifted her hand and plugged her nose for effect, "it still smells. And look at those stains!"

"Whatever," she crossed her arms. "Just don't try to squeeze me into one of those 'brassiere' contraptions."

"_Please_. Your chest is too small to even bother," Bulma grinned, wagging her finger.

"Exactly," Vejata answered, apparently mildly confused as to why the woman seemed to think she was taunting her.

Bulma blushed a little, feeling foolish. "Actually, I might have something of Vegeta's in here."

"That might be best. At least I know then that it won't be all…" she waved her hand in Bulma's general direction, "frilly and lacey and…"

"Girly?" an odd noise seemed to be caught in Bulma's throat.

"Yes."

"Right…I told him I'd destroyed it, but I hid it in here…I hoped he'd find it one of these days, and think it was funny, but he always took that other ship that you and Goku abandoned, instead of this one." She paced over to a nearby closet and extracted an ensemble. "Here it is. It's this or one of my 'girly' outfits," Bulma laughed.

Vejata glanced it over. "Well. All right. Hand it here."

"These pants are _not_ comfortable enough to wear without underwear, unlike that baggy gi," Bulma suggested, cheeks tinged with red as she gave Vejata the pants and shirt. "Take one of my clean pairs," she motioned to her room, and Vejata paced away to retrieve and don the suggested undergarment, taking the outfit with her to put it on.

Moments later, she returned. "This is hardly suitable for fighting," Vejata grumbled, looking herself over.

"Well, it'll have to do—sorry," Bulma raised her hands to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggling.

Vejata shrugged the strange noises off and explained, "These pants are far too restrictive."

"I thought you guys always wore that tight stuff."

"_That_ is flexible material. This is thick…and…it bunches up," she demonstrated by trying to lift her leg in a high kick, "I can hardly move it at all."

"I've got an idea," Bulma perked up. "Here, take off the pants for a second."

"Ever the brilliant scientist," Vejata rolled her eyes, but she sent Bulma a smug grin. "Is that your solution to everything?"

Bulma turned her nose up indignantly, taking the pants from Vejata and walking across the room to pull a pair of scissors from a drawer. After a series of snipping sounds, Bulma handed the clothing back to Vejata.

"It's…a lot smaller," she stared, blinking.

"I cut off most of the pants legs, silly," Bulma giggled. "You know, when Raditz came to Earth he seemed to wear something in this style. That big bald guy, Nappa, too."

"A lot of standard issue Freeza armor was like that," Vejata explained, "or so I understand." She pulled on the pants—now shorts—and looked herself over. "Bizarre."

"On Earth, women wear this style to show off their _ass_ets," Bulma winked.

Vejata frowned. "Vulgar woman."

"Oh, shut up."

"The coloring is odd," Vejata observed. "Very bright."

Bulma shrugged, again attempting to stifle giggles.

"I noticed some text on it, too. Like those characters you put in the puzzle."

"Oh, it's just gibberish. That's the thing nowadays."

"Whatever you say," Vejata turned away, focusing her attention on the pantries in the kitchen area. Bulma turned away from Vejata, back to working on her second version of the scouter lens, but glanced over her shoulder one last time and snickered at the so-called 'gibberish' on Vejata's shirt: "BADMAN."

…

"Hey! Kaio!" Goku grinned, waving to him. Vegeta approached, too, but stopped at a greater distance, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow. "How's it going?"

"Not half bad," he shrugged. "Hey, I've got a really funny joke for you…"

"Ah, hold on, maybe you should tell it to Vegeta instead!"

"Absolutely not!" the prince shouted, suddenly even farther away.

"Doesn't seem like he's the type who could appreciate my sense of humor, anyway," Kaio whispered to Goku.

"I heard that!" Vegeta yelled. "…And it's true!"

"W-well, Kaio, we actually came to ask you a favor…"

"Patience! Is all you do ask me favors?" he huffed. "Let me tell my joke first! I promise, you'll love it…"

…

"_Approaching surface. Please initiate manual control. Approaching surface…_"

"Eek!" Bulma sprinted out to the main room, seating herself at the helm and keying in a series of codes. She turned to Vejata, who seemed to have entered the room straight from the shower, a towel covering her lower half. "Look, I know I _said_ you don't have boobs but you should really cover up," Bulma told her, swearing as loud beeping and flashing lights drew her focus back to the control panel. "Dammit, stop being so picky, there are only fifty billion places to land here…" she muttered to the machine. When she returned her attention to Vejata, the Saiyajin was already clothed and buttoning up the bright pink shirt. She had cut a hole through the backs of the yellow shorts for her tail, which twitched with either nervousness or excitement, or perhaps a combination thereof.

"Do you know how to gather these balls? Once we land?"

"So far as I know each of the village elders is responsible for caring for one," Bulma answered, sighing with relief as the ship slowly lowered itself to the ground. "So we'll just have to go around and ask each of them. I have the radar to locate the dragon balls, but you can't just _steal _them. Hey, since you're so much faster than me, think you could just fly me around?"

"I'm not an aircraft-for-hire," she crossed her arms.

"Please?" Bulma smiled sweetly.

"Only because your cause is my cause…this time."

The blue-haired woman grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Well then, let's go!"

…

"They're all in one place!" Bulma exclaimed as she typed something into an outer keypad of the spacecraft with one hand and held the radar with the other. "This makes things easy!" Without warning, she leapt onto Vejata's back, weaving her arms around her neck. "That way!" Grumbling, Vejata took off.

Minutes later, they found themselves soaring over splotches of green—one or two Namekians here and there—all walking in the same direction. As they got closer to the source of the signal, the crowds became thicker.

"There!" Bulma shouted. "Down there! Hurry!"

Vejata alit in the center of a circle of Namekians, right beside the mystical orbs as their glowing auras pulsed in time.

"Excuse me?" one of the Namekians stepped forward, clearly restraining himself and acting as politely as he could. "Who do you think you are?"

"I recognize that one," another stepped forward. "It's the tyrant Vegeta! We ran into him back on the old planet…"

"Hush, he's hardly a tyrant anymore, don't you remember…?"

"I am not he," Vejata answered, brushing their comments aside.

"Look, I'm from Earth—one of Goku's friends," Bulma pleaded. "You remember Dende? He's the god of Earth now."

"Of course," the largest Namekian spoke. "But what business have you, barging in like this? This is the largest regular gathering of the Namekian people, the wishing festival! We only do it once every ten years…"

"The universe is in danger…again," Bulma explained, hesitant about her wording. "There are six—well these things are…"

"Vessels of pure destruction," Vejata finished. "They destroyed my home planet, New Vegeta. I am its queen. And they have destroyed many other planets since."

"Where is Goku?" Muuri, the largest Namekian, spoke again.

"Dead," they answered in unison, and Bulma continued, "They killed him. We're here to wish him back—along with Vegeta, and Piccolo, and Goten and Trunks…and we need to bring back the planets that were destroyed."

"That seems a heavy wish," Muuri mulled it over, "but I think Porunga can do it. I could never put our festival over the needs of the universe—we will hold it next year instead," he seemed to announce this last part to all the Namekians present.

"Please," Bulma bent in a small bow, "there's no time, we don't want them to find us and destroy your planet too!"

"Of course," Muuri smiled, and in the Namekian tongue summoned forth the hulking dragon.

"What three wishes may I grant you?" he spoke, voice thundering.

"How should we word it?" Bulma muttered, mostly to herself. "Ohh, those guys killed Goku and Piccolo and Goten and Trunks, sure, but I'm sure the same one didn't kill all of them…" she thought aloud. "And there's the matter of the planets…we can't just wish people back onto empty space…"

"Let's take care of that, first, then," Vejata suggested, carefully observing the process of Bulma relaying the wish to Muuri, and then the old Namekian speaking with Porunga.

"Easy," Porunga almost seemed to wink. "All the planets which were destroyed by these beings have been restored to their physical condition prior to the time they were blown up or otherwise ruined."

"All right…shit…" Bulma murmured. "If only Goku could tell us at least which one killed _him_…"

"You have two more wishes," Porunga reminded them as time stretched out.

"Sorry, big guy! Still thinking! Thanks for being so patient!" Bulma blew a kiss his way, and Vejata swore she could see a blush across the dragon's intimidating face. She was having a hard time helping Bulma—it had seemed a joke, all along, that a giant, magical dragon could arise from seven orange spheres, and now she was in shock.

"Hey, guys!" a voice echoed from even higher up than Porunga's. "It's Son Goku! Remember me?" he laughed.

"Oh, thank god!" Bulma sighed, while Vejata madly searched the area for any nearby orange-clad Saiyajin.

"I'm speaking through Kaio!" Goku grinned, "Stop looking for me, Vejata! You won't find me!" She tilted her head downward to hide her flush of embarrassment, and swore she heard Vegeta laughing. "Are you guys about to wish us back, or what?"

"We're thinking!" Bulma answered. "But surely different people killed you than who killed the others, so I'm not sure how to word it…plus, Vejata is the one who killed Vegeta."

"Hm," Goku seemed thoughtful. "Any ideas, Vegeta?"

"Not yet," the voice joined Goku's, echoing through the sky.

"You could try wishing back anyone who died in the past…how long ago did Vegeta die?"

"That has to be a _lot_ of beings—throughout the whole universe? Are you sure the dragon could do that? It's pretty vague…" Bulma mused. "Still, if we could narrow the window to exactly between Vegeta's death and now…we'd have to translate from time on Earth to time here for Porunga I think…"

"Wait!" and Goku's grin was nearly audible. "At the check-in, Lord Enma listed off all the different Vegetas' misdoings under the _same_ Vegeta!"

"Wish back everyone killed by Vegeta!" Bulma chimed in, catching on.

"Is that what you want?" Muuri asked. "I believe Porunga can only bring back those killed in the last one of our years."

"Oh, that'll be plenty of time!" Bulma nodded vigorously. "That's our wish!"

Muuri relayed it to Porunga, who nodded. "This wish involves many beings," Porunga boomed, "so I will need to use the power from both of your remaining wishes to grant it."

"That's fine!" Bulma gushed.

After a few moments silence, Porunga's red eyes glowed. "Your wish has been granted. I'll even bring your friends here to you—my treat," he spoke.

"Oh, what a sweetie!" Bulma blew him another kiss. "Thank you!"

"Fare thee well…"

And as each of the seven spheres changed to stone and sailed across the lands, Goku, Vegeta, Trunks, Goten, and Piccolo tumbled into the center of the circle, landing at Vejata and Bulma's feet. Bulma dove for Vegeta, but he had moved before she could reach him, and Piccolo caught her before she hit the ground. Vegeta had stepped near to Trunks, kneeling down to eye level and scooping him into a one-armed hug. "Trunks," he murmured, and the others stepped back to give him room. Goku picked up his own son, whose eyes were despondent at best.

"Trunks," Vegeta spoke again, and a tear rolled down his cheek, "I am sorry—sorry I could not…"

The boy seemed to collapse against his father, suddenly weeping.

"You are too young—you should not have…" the prince started again, cupping his son's head and pressing it into the crook of his shoulder. The others stared on solemnly, a number of Namekians turning away in respect—Piccolo among them.

"Are you okay? Goten?" Goku waved his hand in front of the boy.

"It hurt…Daddy…" he pressed his eyes closed.

"I'll make it up to you, kiddo," and Goku seemed to become nearly as choked up as Vegeta, "I'll, I'll…make sure your mom lets you eat ice cream for dinner all week! And…you can…keep that pet lizard! And…" he buried his face against Goten. "I don't know, whatever you want…" Goten seemed to accept this, nuzzling against his father, and Goku turned his attention back to Vegeta and Trunks.

"I'm proud of you, son," he looked him in the eyes, "but as long as I am here, you will not be fighting your father's battles. Come now," he wiped one gloved thumb against Trunks' cheek, smudging the boy's tears away, "the faster you…ch-cheer up…the longer I'll let you stay at the amusement park…"

"Dad," Trunks tried to wipe the tears from the other side of his face, "I d-didn't like that at all…I never wanna…do it again…they were…"

"I know. I saw."

Bulma approached softly, setting one hand on Vegeta's shoulder, and the other on Trunks'. She knew Vegeta would fill her in later—maybe not tomorrow, but perhaps next week, or next year—and she hoped, at least, that she could comfort the two. "Bulma," the prince spoke softly, and his voice alone was enough to convey the pain he had experienced. He leaned over to smell her deeply, touching her cheek softly and sending a glare toward Vejata, who took a few steps back, disarmed.

"Will you be okay, Goten?" Goku asked, and as the boy nodded quietly, he set him back down. Trunks shrugged from beneath Bulma's hand, and the two boys came together into an embrace. Suddenly conscious of the many onlookers, they stepped apart, but they exchanged an expression that made it clear that each believed the other was the only one who could truly heal him, a promise to meet in private later and talk.

"We should decide on a battle plan," Piccolo finally spoke, and the boys looked up to him wish shining eyes—a sharer of their suffering, a dedicated mentor. "There's no time to lose."

"Let's get on the ship and get away from here," Bulma suggested. "We're all gathered together, so won't it be easier for them to find us? The last thing we want is them coming and destroying this place." The others nodded in unison. "The ship is that way," she pointed, and nuzzled against Vegeta, who scooped her up to carry her as they flew. Vejata kept her distance, not inviting another poisonous glare. They hadn't spoken one word to each other yet, and she knew it was for the best. Her people were back, her planet was back—she could leave for them, from here, but she felt responsible to at least assist in avenging the her people in any way she could.

She was afraid to look at Bulma, too.

…

"I think it's clear that fusion is key," Piccolo spoke as they took off, waving goodbye to the Namekians after shouting endless thank-yous. "Goku and Vegeta, the two strongest people here, can use the dance. Bulma, Vejata—a little less cocky, a little more helpful, this time, please."

"Like a fusion between mister I-saved-the-universe-a-thousand-times-over and mister-Prince-of-All-Saiyajin wouldn't be cocky," Bulma muttered. Vegeta elbowed her.

"We could at least back up our talk," he snorted.

"Obviously 'Gogeta' would be enormously powerful," Piccolo continued, speaking over them as if he hadn't heard them. "It's the surest option."

"Wait one minute," Goku spoke up. "Bulma's right. We'll probably be full of ourself."

"Does it matter, if you can kill them?"

"What if we only play with them?" Goku pointed out.

"You don't exactly have the best record of 'finishing him off when it makes sense,'" Piccolo considered, "Either of you."

"Kakarrot would probably save one for an _exciting fight_ later," Vegeta huffed.

"Hey, that's the only reason you're still alive!" Goku blew him a raspberry.

"Well, whatever—two of me is more than enough!" he glared at Vejata. "Even _that_ is pushing it."

The group paused in silence for a few moments, deep in thought.

"If I may make a suggestion…"

They all glanced up to Vejata.

She stepped forward, somehow managing majesty in the bright pink shirt, medallion shining under the light. There was only one soul in the room who locked eyes with her. "Prince Vegeta will fuse—with _me_."


	14. 14

"Don't be foolish," Piccolo stepped in, breaking Vejata's eye contact with Vegeta to stare her down. "Goku and Vegeta both outstrip your power enormously. Trunks and Goten, even, are each stronger than you. And so am I. What would be the point?"

"_You_ don't be foolish!" she strode up to him, lifting her chin to look into his eyes as she snarled. "Don't you care about defeating them? If you do, you'll listen to me—"

"Look," Goku stepped forward, his hands thrown out to the side in surrender. He rested his hand on Piccolo's shoulder. "Hey." Piccolo grudgingly turned his attention to the man, but did not rotate his body to face him. "Piccolo. I'm…I'm not going to fuse with Vegeta."

"_What?_" and now he did turn to face Goku.

"Yeah. Look…you…" he paused in thought for a moment, eyes searching the ceiling for the words. "Well, Vegeta and I watched everything from Hell."

"What were you doing in Hell?"

"Y'know, Vegeta wasn't quite good enough to go to Heaven yet, 'cause of all the stuff he did way back when. So we just both went to Hell and watched what happened from there."

Piccolo inclined his head slightly, waiting for Goku to reach his point.

"Anyway, you…you died first. You didn't see what happened…what happened to Goten and Trunks."

"I can guess," he growled, and seemed to be thinking of his own experience.

"And you didn't see…what happened to Vegeta."

Vegeta stepped forward now, shoving his way between Goku and Piccolo. His eyes pierced through Goku's. "Kakarrot! Shut up…" he warned.

"No," and Goku's height above the prince became more visible as he stared the man down. Shocked by Goku's terseness, Vegeta took a step back. Goku turned his attention back to Piccolo, and then the room at large. "The point is, guys…this isn't our fight." His gaze seemed focused beyond any one face. "This is Vegeta's fight. It's both of theirs."

Goku's quiet authority echoed through the room, lingering over their heads. Piccolo shifted uncomfortably, his feet wishing they could step away beneath the powerful words. "But how?"

"Yes," Vegeta finally spoke up again, "my question precisely." His brows furrowed, eyes darkening beneath them. "I _will_ be the one to do away with…with _them_. But…"

"Not just you," Vejata amended quietly, though her gaze was fixed on Goku. "They destroyed my people."

"Oh, as if you _care_," Vegeta rolled his eyes.

Vejata's eyes narrowed as fury flowed from her pores, and the muscles just beneath the skin of her arms and legs twitched madly. "I have taken the responsibility of managing the rebirth of our race. I have held this burden upon my shoulders for nearly a decade now…"

"To hell with them!" Vegeta nearly screamed, grabbing Vejata by the collar of her shirt and pinning her back against the wall. The others moved out of the way. "They're all weak, too comfortable to do what it takes to become a true warrior!" He breathed heavily. "I'm surprised you came as far as you did, sitting on your throne."

"I fought tooth and nail for what I have," she hissed. "Just as you did. I've done things…I would have chosen not to."

"Well," Vegeta grinned, "look who has a conscience. Just like Kakarrot. How sweet. You really are his student."

"No!" and she shoved him away, raising her foot to kick him to the ground. "How _dare_ you!" Growls and snarls seemed to escape her mouth of their own volition, and her tail whipped back and forth viciously. "It never was, and never will be a matter of conscience."

"I think I touched a nerve," Vegeta noted from the floor, and though she squared her shoulders with all her conviction, Vejata felt the prince was still looking down upon her, even from his prone position.

"Freeza," Vejata muttered, and this seemed to snatch Vegeta from his smugness. "If you could kill him, you would."

"Yes," Vegeta narrowed his eyes. Did she know, somehow, what he had done while he was in Hell? "But only for what he made me."

"He made you what you are only as much as you made me what I am."

"And you killed me."

"It wasn't for that."

"Was it?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow.

"I don't give a fuck who you are. You were a threat to my position of power." She ignored the twitching, hoping, itching, that this was the truth.

"You _do_ give a fuck who he is!" Bulma finally snapped, boldly stepping in front of Vejata. "You do." It was an assertion, not a question, but Bulma's eyes seemed to plead.

Vejata seemed to falter, relaxing for a moment. "I…"

Bulma turned to Vegeta. "And _you_. Just _stop_ it. Her goddamn planet got blown up! You know the feeling better than anyone else here…" she knelt down to him. "You'd seemed so…peaceful lately. What…happened?" As only Bulma could, she ran her fingers through Vegeta's hair and kissed his forehead. The prince shook her off halfheartedly. "Vejata isn't the enemy…she even…honored Trunks' death."

Vegeta's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Vejata met his eyes solemnly. "Prince Vegeta. I killed you then. I had to. I don't have to now…and…I won't." She seemed to become steeled with resolve with each word she spoke, and by the end of her statement, her stance was proud and aloof. "I will leave you alone."

The prince's eyes filled with a knowing smugness. He brought himself to his feet, lifting Bulma with him. "The only reason you're not killing me is because you know you can't do it again."

"It's not worth the effort, more like," her lips pulled up into a smirk. "Anyway, it's clear you don't want the throne. And I can subdue any who believe anyone other than me deserves it."

"Can you?" he narrowed his eyes, still smirking, asking more than his words did alone. His smirk faltered as she stepped closer, her face suddenly stone.

"Prince Vegeta. Fuse with me."

"What makes you think it's worth bothering?"

"If what your son and Kakarrot's son have taught me about the fusion is true, the closer one matches one's fusion partner, the more successful the fusion."

"That's right!" Goku chimed in. "You want someone with a pretty close body type, and power level, and stuff. The whole point is to align yourself with the other person as much as possible so that you can combine really well!"

Vejata nodded, and her solemn countenance once again blossomed into a teeth-gleaming smirk. "How much more alike could we get?" she asked Vegeta.

"Power," the prince protested. "The advantages of our similarities would almost certainly be outweighed by your weakness relative to mine. If Kakarrot and I fused, we could certainly power up to the third level. Gotenks can, since Trunks and Goten can both transform to the first level on their own, and have had time to practice. But you and I? Without time to train, we would reach the second level at best," he theorized. Goku inclined his head in agreement, but seemed to be waiting for Vejata to say something. "Sorry," Vegeta finished, "but in your base form, you're useless. Kakarrot, I may have no choice but to perform that ridiculous dance with _you_, of all people, if we cannot think of anything else…"

"Vegeta," Vejata spoke again, and Vegeta's head whipped around to face her as she addressed him without his title. "You agreed that a fusion between yourself and Kakarrot runs the risk of toying around with them. And once they learn the tricks of your fused form, they will learn to overcome them. We only have one shot."

"Then we will have to risk it."

"I don't fuck around with my opponents. And with what you've seen these monsters do? You don't either."

The prince seemed to consider this, and Piccolo nodded with approval.

"You may be more peaceful now," she dipped her chin down to look at him through the tops of her eyes, darkly smirking, "but I will be the kick to your gut that reminds you that you once knew the art of fighting to kill."

A war raged behind Vegeta's eyes, aching for the past, remembering what he had learned since. If he went back, would he ever return? Surely…

"We will defeat them because neither of us is afraid to kill and we will do it at the first opportunity…or do you want to torture the ones who slaughtered your son?"

"No," Vegeta responded firmly, surprising even himself. "No. I want them dead. I will not risk this happening again."

"That's what I thought." She brought herself closer, standing nearly toe to toe with him. "Fuse with me, and we will become a machine for swift vengeance."

The prince's eyes flashed as a flood of emotions surged through them. They settled back into distant calculation. "You are…still too weak," Vegeta now seemed irritated by the fact, looking her over. Motion at the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced to the side to find Bulma dropping a green lens into her left eye, nearly grinning. She planted her hands on her hips and waited.

"Are we far enough from New Namek to fight them?" she asked, glancing toward Piccolo and Goku, whose eyes widened at the sight of her confidence.

"W-well, you did set it up to go pretty fast," Goku reminded her, "'cause we wanted to get far away before they could sense us." He looked at the map. "Whaddaya think, Piccolo?"

"I can sense them from here. You could always…teleport them to the vicinity of the six copies. They're farther away from New Namek than we are right now."

"Yeah," Goku nodded, and glanced back toward Bulma, raising his eyebrows. "So I guess…that answers your question? But can I ask…"

"Vegeta," Bulma turned to the prince as if she hadn't heard Goku. "Do the goddamned fusion."

"B-Bulma…" Vegeta reached toward her, baffled, and perhaps tempted to shake some sense into her. "What is that in your eye?"

"A scouter, dumbass. Don't you recognize the display?" she blinked, and numbers flashed against her iris. "If you were really in Hell watching the whole time, you've seen it."

"Yes…but…"

"I'm going to help you match up precisely."

"But…"

"_Precisely._ For the best results."

"Her strength is not enough."

Bulma snorted. "Shows how much you know."

"What do_ you_ know?"

"That exact smirk," she shrugged toward Vejata, whose eyes were wide, wild, and promised such fullness of power that there was no room for doubt. The queen threw her shoulders back, tilting her neck and letting her joints pop.

"Come on, Prince Vegeta," she hissed in a challenge. "I think you underestimate me."

Goku bounced on the balls of his feet with excitement, grinning from ear to ear, and Vegeta sent him a glare that fizzled out and became a question, confusion. He motioned that Vegeta do as they advised, urging him on.

"I might never catch up to you," Vejata rumbled. "But it wouldn't be very becoming of our family line for me not to try." For just a moment, she turned to Goku. "Kakarrotto. I must thank you."

"Let's see it! Let's see it!" he cheered.

"Just pose, already!" Bulma cried to Vegeta, who, despite his glare at her, took position the proper distance from Vejata.

Goten and Trunks exchanged confused glances, raising their eyebrows. Trunks leaned over to Goten. "Hey…what if that whole time she was in the Room of Spirit and Time…"

But he was interrupted by a roar from Vejata's throat and a blinding flash of golden light that abated to reveal the ascended Saiyajin.

Vegeta's teeth gleamed as the expression of shock melted from his features. "But of course. You are of the same stuff as I. I should expect no less of you." He powered up as well, focusing to match Vejata's strength.

"Just a little bit more, Vegeta…no, less now. There. Right on the dot," Bulma grinned, giving a thumbs-up.

Goten and Trunks both balled their fists in excitement, and Goku was nearly jumping for all his glee. Piccolo noted this and rolled his eyes. _Doubtless he's this happy just because he sees another rival in the works…or maybe because he hopes to one day take on this fusion._

"Vegeta and Vejata," Goku mused. "What will we call you?" But before anyone could answer, the two began the set of motions. _Damn, Vegeta, good thing you're such a fast learner. Or did Trunks try to teach it to you?_ He glanced toward the boy, who indeed seemed to be quite aware of something that he himself wasn't. Judging by the way that Goten's expression matched his own, Goku knew it had to be a secret between Vegeta and his son.

And as if his thoughts had removed him from the world completely, in just a blink Goku was looking at one person instead of two. "What's your name?" he looked on in awe.

"Vegeta," the figure responded, and the room was deadly quiet. "I am Vegeta." And with that, he lifted two fingers to his brow, and was gone.


	15. 15

The fusion reappeared far from the ship, landing quietly in the brush of a foliage-covered area on a large planet. "This…is truly bizarre," he murmured, looking over himself. A tail flicked behind him. "I am neither Prince Vegeta…nor Queen Vegeta…but certainly just as _Vegeta_ as either of them…or _more_ so," as he flexed his hand, electricity danced over it, and a dark smirk covered his face. He let his power drop until he had returned to his base state, and the suppressed it further, crouching in the vegetation and poising himself to strike. His fingers gripped at the roots of the plants and he subtly wriggled from his boots so that his toes could do the same. This was not about pride—not about station—only about finishing them for what they had done. He wanted to feel the ground for all it could tell him and for all he could use it.

Now, as the fused Vegeta, he could see from a distance the emotional turmoil of the parts that made up his whole, and its causes were petty. No—not petty—but he had his own reasons. These copies were disgrace to his name, and a disappointment to the universe, products of a being that had become too ostentatious and, despite its apparent brilliance, thought too little. These things—these superfluous copies—bored, purposeless monsters—did they think? Did they know? But with such power, what else was there to do? Vegeta knew, and knew that this alone was what separated him and them: they would never learn what else to do.

One copy appeared, then two more, searching for the familiar energy that had quickly disappeared from view. Vegeta all but slithered through an opening, to watch them from behind. With his power so low, all he had to do was keep quiet and not be seen…but this was the way to go about things, before they all showed. As a breeze picked up, rustling the brush, he took advantage of the sound and motion to come up behind one copy, and swiftly knocked the backs of his knees in, toppling him and slamming his jaw shut before he could make a sound. Doubtless they had some other way of communication—were they telepathically connected, identical as they were?—but it would, at least, help. With his advantage Vegeta was able to snap the copy's neck uncontested—but as he had suspected, his presence was quickly noted.

Grimacing as if in agony, the other two copies that had shown themselves on the scene charged the area, and, calculating quickly, Vegeta ascended, and then ascended again. He lashed out against them, knocking them back in opposite directions. He had to finish this quickly—quickly or the fusion would run out, quickly or they would learn better how to deal with him. He focused his attention on one, catching up with him as he flew through the air—had not yet had time to ascend and match Vegeta. The fusion drilled him into the ground, foot planted against his stomach, and gripped his toes tightly, holding onto the copy as he swung a punch at the recently recovered one. As he leapt away from the copy on which he stood, he pressed his feet down and apart, ripping open the copy's belly and yielding a blood-curdling scream from both the dying copy and the attacking one.

As Vegeta knocked the third copy back, three more arose around him, and his mind was racing to discover a strategy that would allow him to take them on one by one. It could be impossible, he knew—yet, in the end, each fight was one-on-one, each blow the case merely of one foe attacking another—and if it happened many times in a row, so be it. Each swing of his arm, each twitch of his eyebrow had to be a move to defeat his enemy—to kill him—and he grinned maliciously with excitement. He was a god awakened for this purpose alone.

But four at once were far too many to handle—how many had it taken to kill Kakarrot in mere seconds?—his mind worked quickly and he snatched the nearest copy, pulling him into a lock that kept him from moving. Snarling, the other copies approached, trying to land blows against the fused Vegeta. Quickly, he lowered his back against the ground, still gripping the other copy. The remaining three seemed to explode with rage at their inability to strike their opponent, and leapt forward, scratching to free the copy in Vegeta's grip. As their efforts were fruitless, and fruitless still as they pulled at his body, they began tugging on the copy's limbs, and Vegeta's eyes became icy as he tried to ignore what was transpiring. But quickly as he could blink, the figure in his grasp was lighter, and bleeding profusely—dismembered but for one leg and his tail, which writhed against Vegeta's gut.

Vegeta dropped the body but was caught only moments later by the tearing hands of the three copies that remained, as two restrained him for the other to perform some other technique. He let his tail whip with force against one of the copies who held him, and lurched his body around to swing one copy against the other, dazing them just long enough for him to escape—but not before the third formed a bright magenta disk, laughing maniacally. Vegeta recognized it immediately—it was buried deep within one of the minds that formed his being, and moved out of the way as quickly as he could. The disk caught his tail, shaving off the end, and he let loose a wail. Vegeta was forced to move again—it looped back around to chase him, and as he sped along the terrain, it did not relent. He swooped past the copies, hoping to damage one of them, but they were all too fast—faster than he, perhaps. So he powered up farther, and rocketed to the other side of the planet, gaining precious inches on the disk with each second he moved. Finally, he raised his fingers to his forehead, teleported behind one of the copies, and jumped out of the way just before it sliced through him. The bottom half of the copy's body plummeted to the ground, and he choked out sputtering sounds, his top half following the bottom not long after.

The copy that had generated the disk dispelled it, glaring critically at Vegeta. _There are only two left… _he glanced around for the other, and sensed its energy approaching him quickly. Vegeta gathered himself into a defensive stance, mind racing for some strategy, _something_, to take care of these last two. The one that stood before him, still glaring, seemed in pain despite the fact that Vegeta had yet to strike him, and Vegeta studied his face for the cause. In his distraction, Vegeta missed his chance to block the other copy as it charged toward him, and found himself tangled with him, their tails lashing as they wrestled. The copy braced his hand and pulled it back, and Vegeta shifted his hands to defend his neck, kicking at the copy.

He flipped them over and forced the copy's smaller body to the ground, and shot a bright ki blast toward the other copy as it came for him. In the split-second Vegeta had, he turned the copy's move upon him, gripping his hair with one hand and driving his hand through the copy's throat with the other. He breathed heavily, standing up. The fight was taking its toll on him, and he feared he didn't have much longer before the fusion would run out. He suspected that this one, this silent, distant copy, must be stronger, smarter than the others…

The last copy stood, waiting, calculating. Pain was etched onto his young face, and his tail held still, poised in thought. He hissed out words in some barely intelligible language, but Vegeta recognized it for its Saiyajin roots: "You've killed my brothers. You've killed me. You must die, as well."

Vegeta's heart raced at the familiarity of the voice, at the meaning of the words. "You're outclassed in every way," he responded quietly. "How do you intend to achieve that?" He feared the answer, and his tail twitched in wait.

The copy powered up, a blazing orb of energy surrounding him. "You know."

Vegeta did know, and he knew he had to finish the job _now._ He widened his stance to power up, bursts of light flashing around him as electricity danced over his body. His hair doubled, then tripled in length, and he turned his monstrous face to the copy. But as he snarled and crouched to prepare for an attack, Vegeta felt an alien pounding in his chest, pulsing through his body, and just as he realized what it was—

Vegeta and Vejata flew apart, catching themselves on the brush and sending one another panicked glances. The copy's orb swelled, and Vegeta froze. _The only reason Buu survived that move…was because he could regenerate…_ "Fuck," he muttered, turning to Vejata with desperate eyes.

"What's this?" she shouted to Vegeta over the rushing winds.

"He's going to blow himself up—and us with him!"

"Shit!" Vejata sprinted toward the prince, slinging one arm around him as she lifted two fingers to her forehead. Heat chased their heels as they fled into silence, faster than the sound of the crackling of a planet.

…

They reappeared behind the crowd, gathered around the ship's screen, where a blazing light was just barely visible. Goku and Piccolo were the first to turn around, distress melting into relief in their eyes.

"Just barely!" Goku grinned. "How was it? We couldn't see a thing…"

"All we could feel were the fluctuations in your power," Piccolo added.

"Thank god," Bulma crumpled to the ground, running her hands through her hair. She pulled the scouter from her eye and tossed it to the side.

Goten and Trunks blinked silently, waiting.

"So…what happened?" Goku persisted.

Vejata slowly removed her arm from around Vegeta, and their eyes met. Memories flashed between them, of what their combined power had done. Her hand lingered against Vegeta's shoulder for several more moments before it drifted back to her side.

"Were you really strong?"

"Yes," they both answered.

"Can I fight you like that sometime?"

"No," Vegeta growled. Vejata nodded her head in agreement.

Goku shrugged the answer off. "How did you beat them?"

"Brutally," Vejata murmured. "And without honor."

"Oh," Goku lowered his head. "I guess I should have known." His eyes met Vegeta's, and he perceived an anguished expression. "Is something else wrong?"

"You never could have beaten them," he answered simply.

"Well," Bulma stepped in, "I'm glad _you_ could." She wrapped her arms around Vegeta, but he shook her off. She lowered her eyebrows and poked Vegeta's chest. "Now, look, you…"

"Don't touch me," he whispered gently, prying her arm away. "Not now."

Vejata turned away so that only Vegeta could see her face. "It had to be done like that."

"I know," Vegeta snarled. "Don't treat me like a moron."

She held her gaze.

"Vejata," Goku snatched at the woman's shoulder. She shrugged him away, but turned her focus to him. "Come back to Earth with us?"

"No. I have a planet to rule."

"Just for a little bit. They've been without you for a while, right? Another day or two won't hurt 'em."

"We're almost there anyway," Bulma added. "Maybe half a day with how fast the ship is going right now."

"I could even teleport us!" Goku suggested.

"I can make you another, better one of these," Bulma motioned toward the scouter.

"I'll be in the gravity room," she answered, eyes locking with Vegeta's. "If you need me."

…

Vegeta entered the gravity room hours later to find Vejata sleeping there. He locked the door from the inside using a code he had memorized well from the same room at Capsule Corp. "Hey," he spoke gruffly. "Get up."

She stirred, opening her eyes slightly, and in moments was alert and standing up.

"I'm not as soft as you think I am."

Vejata raised an eyebrow. She crossed her arms and waited for the prince to continue.

"I just…hadn't…done anything like that…for a while." He clenched his fist and swung it around to pound it against the wall. "I…think a _real _Saiyajin…should have relished in that bloodshed."

"Under that logic, you should not have reacted so strongly to your son's death."

"What?"

"Do you think your father so much as sniffled over sending you to certain death under Freeza?" she paused to see if he would respond. When he didn't, she continued, "The King Vegeta I knew wouldn't have blinked."

Vegeta nodded, and paced over to the controls. He paused in thought, chewing on his tongue while he chose the right words. "You are a Super Saiyajin now. They will be bugs beneath your feet."

Vejata nodded, the corner of her mouth turning down. "Yes. But it's my home."

"You'll grow bored."

She nodded again.

Vegeta's hand hovered over the dial, and as he focused his gaze on Vejata, his expression twisted into rage. He gritted his teeth and seethed, hand twitching. "What happened?" his voice was suddenly sharp, and he rapidly dialed up the gravity.

"What…do you mean?" she caught herself before she collapsed under her rapid change in weight.

"What happened between you and Bulma?" his teeth were still gritted.

Vejata took a few steps, and seemed to think better of it, turning away from Vegeta to face the wall. "If her behavior is any indication, nothing of importance," her voice seemed bitter as it echoed from the wall.

"She's mine, you know."

"I know," she braced her forearm against the wall and leaned against it, resting her forehead right beside it. "And so is Kakarrot."

Vegeta's brows furrowed, searching for the meaning of her statement, but eventually, he shrugged, throwing a few punches and kicks into the air. "Either get out of my way, or spar me," he commanded.

"Prince Vegeta," she spoke clearly, glancing across the room at him as she turned to face him. Their eyes met, and stayed in contact for several long moments in silence. Vegeta perceived gratitude and fear, apology and anger beneath layers of stony resolve in Vejata's gaze.

"Well?" he finally spoke. "Are you going to fight with me?"

She padded to the door and looked over her shoulder at him. "Not today."


	16. 16

They reached Earth less than a day later, and it wasn't a moment too soon for any of them—besides, perhaps, Goku.

"Aren't you getting off the ship?" Vejata questioned him as he spun around in the captain's chair. Everyone else had filed out.

"Yeah," he answered, and stopped himself with his foot against the edge of the control panel.

"Doesn't look like it."

"I'm just thinking," and he leaned his head against his hand. "You're gonna come back, right?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged. "We'll see."

"I just…really wanted to train with you! Gohan never wants to fight, and Goten's always training with Trunks…"

"What about Prince Vegeta?"

"Oh. You know. Sometimes he wants to fight me, sometimes he doesn't even want to see me…" he swiveled back and forth a bit, still anchored to the control panel. "And you could probably get a lot stronger."

"I'll work on my own." She turned and started to exit the ship. "And you should continue to pursue your goals with Prince Vegeta."

"My…goals?" Goku blinked.

"Your training goals," she amended, but didn't say anything more for the return of the feeling of her innards jumping from her throat. "Now come on. Join the others outside."

"I want to go on another adventure," he pouted, standing up and sauntering over to the door. "I wanna fight some more strong guys."

"I'll come back stronger," she muttered. Goku glanced over to her and grinned, and, perhaps satisfied with this, hopped out the door. Vejata paused to look out the window from which she'd seen the debris of her destroyed planet, fingering the medallion she still wore around her neck. _Everything is back…everything is back to normal._ Her fingers caught her interest, and she let the medallion fall back to her chest in favor of inspecting them. She'd spent so long plotting to kill the prince, fretting over securing her position of power, even after killing the king, that she'd forgotten what she'd intended for her people upon her return.

She hadn't planned on meeting anyone but the prince himself—getting the job done, and leaving his dead body as the only mark she'd ever been there. It would have been simple enough.

_Dammit, Kakarrot._ Her fingernails pressed against her palms, leaving deep prints in them. How could such an unthreatening individual affect her so? _But he _is_ threatening. Anyone who can kill me is threatening._ Her fists loosened a bit. _I don't feel nearly as threatened as I should. I need to get out of here before they pollute my instincts further._ And with that, she left the ship. She followed the fuzzy ki signatures of the others into Capsule Corp. and found them circled around a dining room table, discussing something animatedly. Only Vegeta seemed to be avoiding the conversation, and Bulma kept glancing back toward him as she spoke.

But as Vejata neared the area, Piccolo looked toward her, followed shortly by the others, and all conversation ceased.

"I'm leaving soon," she announced, as if she hadn't noticed that they'd been discussing anything in particular.

"Let me…get to making you that improved scouter," Bulma scooted from the room.

Vejata stalked after her, trying to ignore Vegeta's eyes as they bored into the back of her head. "Don't you worry," she finally hissed back at him, before she rounded a corner behind Bulma. She didn't look back at Vejata, but her shoulders stiffened as they proceeded down a staircase and toward one of Bulma's labs. By the time they reached the doorway, Vejata could nearly hear the woman's teeth as they gritted together. Bulma's arm extended stiffly to open the door.

When they finally entered, Bulma whipped around to face Vejata with an icy glare. "Don't do anything stupid," she warned.

"Have I given you a reason to be so afraid?" Vejata tried to soften her voice, but it only bit harder. She shut the door behind her.

"Why did you follow me down here?"

"I deserve an explanation."

"For what?"

"Ever since Prince Vegeta's return, you've hardly even acknowledged my presence. I couldn't care less," she snorted, "but you should at least tell me: did you actually…feel for me?"

Bulma opened her mouth to snap something back, but paused as she registered the wording.

"I don't give a shit if you didn't. But at least be consistent." Her voice quivered, but she furrowed her eyebrows so that it might seem that anger was the cause. "In fact, I hope you didn't. I don't need another excuse to return to this backwater mudball of a planet."

"You're…not coming back?" Bulma's blank expression gave way to surprise.

"Not for you," she growled, "not at this rate." As she leaned forward to look Bulma in the eye, her medallion swung like a pendulum between them.

"I'm sorry," Bulma took in a deep breath, watching the object swing. "But nothing is worth giving up Vegeta."

"A pastime while he was dead, then. I see," she stepped back. "That's…fine."

"I never meant for anything to come of it."

"Things never do work that way." She paced over to one of the counters, littered with half-finished machines.

"I hope…I haven't…"

"Just get to work on the damn scouter."

Bulma stepped over to a different counter, gathering up some tools. "You probably don't need it," she spoke quietly.

Vejata picked up one of the half-finished devices and tossed it into the air a few times, looking past it to Bulma's back. She set it gently back in its place. "I know."

"So why am I making it?"

"So that I know when to leave."

Bulma nodded at this, nimbly crafting the beginnings of scouter. "Okay." She

turned to look Vejata in the eye, and her expression was soft as it had been during much of their time alone together. "Should I work on it faster, or slower?"

"As you please," Vejata murmured. "I'll return shortly." She ducked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her before Bulma could protest.

…

As Vejata entered the dining area once more, she nodded to Piccolo, Goten, and Trunks, who still stood there conversing with Goku, and now, Vegeta.

"Is there any way we can get you to stay?" Goku piped up as soon as she entered.

"Please don't ask me that," Vejata growled, pained. She turned to Piccolo. "My thanks to you for allowing me to use that room."

Piccolo nodded. "I'm…glad you did. I think we all are."

"I don't wish to return to my home in this garb," she motioned to the pink shirt. "Is it possible, with your technique…"

Before she could finish, Piccolo extended his arm and granted her the best rendition of her old armor that he could muster.

"Miss Vejata," Goten tugged on her. "Please, can you stay and teach Trunks and me some new moves?"

"No," she began to reach down to pat his head, but thought better of it and crossed her arms. "I'm afraid I can't. Anything that I can teach you, your fathers likely already have." She scanned over the occupants of the room, shifting her weight.

"You know, you seemed like a real bitch," Trunks started, and Vegeta hit him over the head.

"Your mother," he warned.

"Fine," Trunks started again. "You seemed like a jerk. You still seem like a jerk. You killed my dad! And it's your fault…" he trailed off, glancing at his arms. He steeled himself and looked back to her. "And it was your fault we died."

"Yes."

"But you also helped get rid of them," Trunks finished, and he stepped up to Vejata. He extended his hand. "Thanks."

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his grasp, and looked at him for what to do. He clutched her hand and shook it, and as she caught on, she reciprocated.

"I hope you come back."

As Vejata smirked at the boy, Vegeta shot her a glare. "Come with me," he muttered, and left the room. She followed him wordlessly, and Goku followed at Vegeta's heels. "Kakarrot," Vegeta whipped around. "Leave."

"Why?"

"I'm going to have a private conversation."

"You can't make me leave," Goku blew a raspberry at him. "I'm following you."

"Kakarrot," Vejata stepped up to him, and grabbed his shoulder to turn him to face her. Her voice was dangerous. "Leave."

"Well…" Goku glanced toward the ceiling. "What're you guys talking about?"

"I don't know," she answered quietly, and Goku caught the hint of warning in her voice this time.

"Okay," Goku answered simply. "I'll wait out here. Promise I won't listen in," he smiled.

Vegeta opened the door and left it ajar just long enough for Vejata to squeeze in. She took in her surroundings quickly: a dresser with a pair of gloves tossed carelessly onto it, a few pieces of jewelry scattered near them. The covers of the bed were in disarray, and littered with underthings. Her nose wrinkled and she turned her focus elsewhere: in the closet were rows of identical sets of Vegeta's training outfit, sprinkled with tees and dress shirts that he probably never wore. She remembered that she had been here before—once when she had tried to kill Vegeta in his sleep. It was an odd notion; she still felt the tension carving a deep ridge between them, but even at this opportune moment she was not itching to kill him. Perhaps it was because there was no need—perhaps it was because she knew that he would stop her before she could do a thing. Perhaps it was something else.

"Well?" she finally spoke. "What do you want?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Vegeta asked quietly, narrowed eyes piercing into her.

"We didn't talk so long ago. I thought you knew," she answered, voice thick with sarcasm. "At least, you didn't ask me then."

"Goddammit, you know that's not what I mean." He jerked his head toward the door. "It's been scarcely a month. My son wants you to say, Kakarrot wants you to stay—Bulma wants you to stay. I think even the fucking Namekian is half fond of you."

"I doubt it," she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, taking a step back.

"Look," Vegeta grabbed the necklace that held her medallion and pulled her closer, threatening to snap it. "Just tell me what the hell you did."

"You saw," she tried to shrug him off, but he kept a tight grip. "At least, if what you say is true." Vejata grabbed the prince's hand tightly, trying to pry it from the necklace.

"You fused with Bulma."

"I also fused with you." She raised an eyebrow. "Feel any different?"

"Hardly," his mouth twitched.

"Well, what the fuck is wrong, then?" she raised her voice.

"You're…" he faltered, dropping the medallion.

"They chose you," Vejata's voice was quiet again. "They always chose you. You don't have a thing to worry about." She took a few steps back until she brushed against the dresser.

"Are you going to come back?" he asked so quietly that Vejata wasn't sure if he asked it aloud, or if it had echoed though her head.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Hell if I know," she breathed, but Vegeta saw her eyes dart toward the door.

"Leave him be."

"I'll never beat you. You needn't worry," but her determined features spoke otherwise.

"Good," Vegeta threatened.

A knock rattled the door. "You guys almost done talking?" Goku's voice rang. Vegeta turned on his heel and exited, turning to look at Goku, and Vejata followed.

"Vejata," Bulma intercepted them on their way back to the dining area. She held out her hand to give something to Vejata. "Scouter's done. It's in this box."

She took the small box and nodded to Bulma. "I'll be off, then."

"Can I come visit?" Goku grinned.

"Give me some time," she considered shoving him away, but decided against it.

"We'll be seeing you," Bulma smiled, laying a hand against her shoulder for just a moment. Vejata inclined her head and then glanced toward Vegeta, who watched silently. As she stepped out the door, she looked back one last time. Vegeta raised one hand above his crossed arms in acknowledgement.

And she was gone.  
...

NOTE: You can find the sequel to this story, "Anaugust Gold," via my profile page. I hope you continue reading! Thanks!


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